


Intimacy

by Blackbird Song (Blackbird_Song)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Challenge Response, Community: reel_torchwood, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbird_Song/pseuds/Blackbird%20Song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Harkness's fiancée runs off to Wales with another man. Jack sets off in hot pursuit to get her back. Things do not go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/reel_torchwood/profile)[**reel_torchwood**](http://community.livejournal.com/reel_torchwood/) challenge. The prompt was _French Kiss_. Many thanks to my husband and [](http://temporal-witch.livejournal.com/profile)[**temporal_witch**](http://temporal-witch.livejournal.com/) for the betas.

 

"He's an idiot! What the hell does she see in him?" Jack Harkness watches Gwen Cooper snog his arch-nemesis, a man whose existence has only just become clear to him.

Nobody answers, of course, because he's speaking to a CCTV screen in a room by himself.

He watches them board the plane for London and feels his heart start to crack as his fiancée flies out of his life.

 

> _Jack,_
> 
> I've done something stupid and fallen in love with someone else. I'm so, so sorry, but he swept me off my feet and I just couldn't help it. Please forgive me, Jack. It's really best this way. You'll find someone else in no time.
> 
> Love always,  
> Gwen

Jack has the email memorized, and it cycles through his mind just about every thirty seconds. When did Gwen meet this guy? How the hell did she 'fall in love' with someone she just met? And such an ugly idiot, at that? How could she do that to him, when they were so perfect together?

"She's made a mistake." The TV screen is passive, focusing on the closed boarding gate. "I'll get her back. She couldn't pick that guy over me! Did I let myself go?" He looks at himself in the darkened TV screens and grins as wide as he can. "Oh, man, I've got crow's feet!"

"No, you don't." Amy sits down next to him and logs in.

"Yes, I do! Look!" Jack gives her an even wider grin.

"Okay, just freeze like that and we'll cut off all the extra skin and sew you back up. Oops! You can't close your mouth! You look like the Joker! But you got rid of your crow's feet."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Hold that thought till we do the check-in. Anything to report?"

"My life is over."

"What happened? You lose a cap?"

Jack shows her all his teeth.

"Jesus! I thought you couldn't whiten those things!"

"Gwen left me for another guy."

"What? Aw, man, I'm sorry."

"And he's ugly!"

"Oh, yeah? Got a picture?"

Jack cues up the exact time marker of the footage of Gwen and the thief waiting in line to board.

Amy looks thoughtfully at the screen. "She had to know you'd be watching. What a bitch!"

"Don't talk about her like that!"

"Sorry, babe." She freezes the frame on the man. "He's not ugly."

"How can you say that?"

"He's not! He's actually kind of cute. What's his name?"

Jack calls up the passport.

"Rhys Williams. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Jack sets his teeth and emphatically waves her off.

"Can't even say his name, huh?"

"He's Welsh! How do I even compete with that?"

"Gwen's Welsh, too."

"Amy!"

Amy shrugs and scans the monitors, zooming in on a guy fiddling with his bag. "You gonna go after her?"

"In what? A rowboat?"

"Come on! You know you want to. Look at your hands!"

Jack looks down at his hands, which are stroking the controls. "So?"

"You always do that when you miss flying."

"I don't miss flying. I hate flying!"

"Whatever, Jack. If we don't check in now, they'll fire us and Sal will break your face."

Jack winces. "Worse than last time?"

"Hell, yeah. But you know she's sorry about that, right?"

*****

Jack is sitting by the window. He is over the wing, in the exit row. He knows that his odds of surviving a crash would be a bit better were he further back, but he really, really needs to know that he has control of a door. Even though he spends every workday in a windowless room and is scared of heights – a new thing – he can't manage this if he can't be the first one out in a crisis. Screw the other passengers! Especially the one he got to bump out of the seat, thanks to his job.

He is humming a litany of curses about Wales, oceans, January and night flights when a shadow falls on him. He glances to the left in time to catch a man – tall, slender, great suit – stowing a bag in the overhead compartment. When the man sits, folding his coat neatly on his lap until the other passengers can be seated, Jack breathes in the scent of clean and – something else that makes him aroused and annoyed, all at the same time.

"Is, er, something wrong?"

The man's voice is like velvet, but something about it sets off something hurty in Jack. "No. Nothing at all. How 'bout you?"

"I'm very well, thanks. Are you sure you're all right? You seemed a bit ... upset about something."

It's the 'something' that connects the hurty place to Jack's brain. "You're Welsh, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Don't talk to me!" Jack pulls out the safety card and starts looking at it.

"Erm, do you have any particular reason to dislike people from Wales?"

"None of your business."

"It is if you tend to get violent about it, especially since you're sitting next to the emergency exit."

Jack tries not to look, but he has excellent peripheral vision and can't help seeing that the man might be smiling.

He'd like to ask the man his name. He wonders if this is the guy he bumped out of the window seat. But he really can't reveal what kind of work he does, so he remains silent, fuming and terrified.

"If I may suggest—"

"No!"

"—You'd probably have an easier time with that card if you turned it 'round."

Jack's head whips around, and he sees the man for the first time. It's been a long time since he was involved with a man, but this one would be everything he'd look for. That is, if the guy weren't Welsh. Or straight (he can always tell). Or if he weren't going after Gwen and that Williams asshole. 'Williams'. He can just hear the way Gwen would pronounce it, the way her silky voice would caress it and pronounce every vowel in it.

"Are you scared of flying?" The man looks pointedly at Jack's hands.

Jack hadn't been aware that he'd been tearing the card. That really shouldn't be possible. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

The man inclines his head slightly. "Those cards aren't meant to tear like that, your knuckles are white, and you're sweatin'."

The dropped 'g' reminds Jack so much of Gwen that he swallows, clenching his teeth.

"And besides," says the man, his voice gentler than before, "I'm a fellow sufferer."

"Oh, yeah? Then how come you're so calm and collected, Mr.—"

"Jones."

"Oh!" Jack waves his hand. "Welsh!"

"Yes, we did establish that." Mr. Jones is starting to sound annoyed.

Jack sighs. It's the closest thing to an apology that he's going to offer anyone in the next thousand years. "Have you got a first name?"

"It's even more Welsh," warns Jones.

"Let me guess... Owen? Gwyn? Evan? Please don't tell me it's Tom...."

"Close..."

"Your name is Tom Jones?!"

"No. It's Ianto. Sort of related to 'Evan'."

"Yahntoe. Has a ring to it."

"I suppose it does," says Jones, with a smirk. "And you are...?"

"Harkness. Jack Harkness."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harkness." Jones extends his hand.

Jack takes it. "Jack. Likewise, Mr. Jones."

"Ianto."

The plane starts to move, and Jack suddenly can't think of Gwen anymore. "Okay, Ianto. So what do you do to get yourself through this?"

Ianto takes a moment to answer, and when he does, it's quiet. "I think of Lisa."

"Girlfriend?"

"For five years."

"What happened?"

"She died in a plane crash."

"Oh, great...."

"Sorry. But you did ask."

Jack rips his eyes from the seatback in front of him and looks at Ianto. "You seem awfully calm. Are you really afraid of flying?"

"You're a lot calmer than you were a minute ago."

Jack can't help a small smile. "Good point." He reaches over and squeezes Ianto's arm, and knows that Ianto is in trouble. "Hey..."

"What do you think about?"

"Sex."

"To get you through flying?"

"Oh. I haven't flown in years." Jack pulls the blind down, because the sight of the wing gliding past pavement and grass on the way to the runway is too much.

"Really? Why are you doing it now, then?"

"Because my fiancée fell for this idiot and flew back with him to fucking Wales!"

"Ah. That would explain why you hate Welsh people."

"Are you all like this?"

"Like what?"

"So holier-than-thou. 'Jack! Stop looking at that girl! She's too young for you.' 'Jack, love, you do know that American football is a wimpy game, right?' 'Jack! Stop trying to read my email!' I mean, come on! I'm just trying to protect her...."

Ianto nods, slowly. "She's right. Rugby's a much better game than American football. Much more risky. And it's beautiful. Didn't know she was Welsh, though."

"Well, now you know. And so's the asshole she fell for."

"I had sort of assumed that."

"Never assume! You—"

"Make an arse of you and me?"

"No! Well, that too, but I was gonna say you never know who's packing heat."

"Haven't heard that in a while."

"Oh, shut up! Jesus, you're a sarcastic bunch! I thought the French were bad!"

"Erm... the gentlemen behind us are French..."

"Who cares?"

"Shouldn't you?" Ianto's eyes flick exactly to where Jack carries his weapon. "Air marshal?"

Jack's blood runs cold. "Who wants to know?"

Ianto takes in a breath. "Let's just say we work in similar fields, Captain Harkness. And look! We're in the air."

Jack's mouth snaps shut and he pushes the blind up and hazards a look out the window. "Ohmigod...." He swallows. "How did I not notice that?"

"Good question from someone who used to fly for a living."

Jack whips around and leans in, grasping Ianto's forearm in a much less friendly fashion. "Okay, just who the hell are you, and how did you get hold of that information?"

"I told you. My name's Ianto Jones."

Jack leans in even closer to Ianto's ear. "If you know I used to fly, then you also know that I'm a crack shot. And you should know that I have my gun out of the holster and my thumb on the safety."

"I'm going to reach into my jacket and get my I.D. nice and slowly, all right?"

Ianto's scent is stronger, and Jack can't tell if that's due simply to proximity or to the adrenalin flowing through both of them. "Slowly..." He keeps his eyes glued to Ianto's face, all senses on high alert.

Ianto opens the left side of his jacket with his left hand. "I'll need my right hand."

Jack releases it.

Ianto reaches slowly and as inconspicuously as the seats will allow for his breast pocket and pulls out his I.D., which he hands to Jack. "Ianto Jones. MI5." His voice is very low, and so sultry that Jack can no longer ignore his growing arousal.

Jack looks at the document and hands it back. "Jack Harkness. NSA. But then, you already knew that." He runs his eyes over Ianto's form. "You carrying?"

"Not this trip."

"So you were visiting the U.S. because...?"

"It's personal."

"NSA, remember?"

"I – came to claim Lisa." The words are nearly inaudible, and there are tears skirting the rims of Ianto's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was so recent."

"It – wasn't."

Jack leans in to hear, because Ianto's words have dipped too low to be heard over the engine noise.

"It was – she was—"

"Would you like a beverage, sir?"

Jack doesn't realise how close he is – was – to Ianto until the flight attendant's voice rips them apart. "Coffee, please." He flashes her a smile, distracting her while Ianto recovers.

"Cream and sugar?"

"One cream, two sugars. Oh, and can I get a water, as well?"

"Of course!" She smiles as she pours the coffee and hands it to him.

As he takes the cream and sugar, and then the water, Jack glances at Ianto and notices a wall that hasn't quite fallen into place. He calculates and fumbles the hand-off just enough. "Ooh, sorry about that!"

"No problem at all!" She gives him a sweet smile and turns to Ianto. "Anything for you, sir?"

"Water, please." He gives her a small smile.

Jack is impressed by the paint job.

Ianto takes the bottle and cup from the flight attendant with a nod of thanks. When she and her teammate move down the aisle, he tucks the bottle into the seat pocket in front of him and all but bolts for the lavatory.

Ten minutes later, Jack looks up when Ianto returns, puffy-eyed and weary-looking. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Ianto turns the same smile on Jack that he had the flight attendant.

Jack opens his mouth to pump Ianto for more information about Lisa, but just this once his sensitivity training kicks in. "So. D'you always do background checks on the people you're going to sit next to?"

Ianto's smile eases. "Only when I'm on business. Or when they bump me from my chosen seat."

Jack grins. "Sorry about that."

"No, you're not."

"Okay, I'm not." Jack's irritation returns, but it has a new flavour.

"It's probably just as well. I'm ... not too good with heights."

"Me, neither."

"Maybe we should've taken a boat."

"I get seasick."

Ianto rolls his eyes. "And we'd probably have killed each other halfway out the harbour."

Jack barely manages not to choke on his water.

"Sorry about that."

"No, you're not!"

Ianto is holding up his water bottle. "Touché."

Jack huffs something that he can't quite identify as a laugh and touches his own bottle to Ianto's. "Truce?"

"It is a full flight."

Jack hears a cart clattering and looks up the aisle. "Oh, crap, here comes the food."

"Bad?"

Jack leans in. "They bribed the health inspector. Twice."

"Good thing I'm not hungry, then."

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

Ianto gives him a quizzical look.

"Your trip to the bathroom?"

"My—oh! No, I wasn't, er... I'm all right. Just tired."

"Sounds like you had a hard week."

Ianto nods, just once, and something about it stabs at Jack.

"Would you like something to eat?"

Both Jack and Ianto look up and shake their heads with polite smiles.

The flight attendant looks vaguely disappointed, and Jack shrugs at her and gives her a puppy-eyed look that makes her smile.

When the attendants move on a ways, Jack leans in again. "I have some nuts stashed in my bag, if you get hungry."

Ianto turns a tired but amused gaze on him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Almonds! And cashews! Jesus! Why does everyone think I'm hitting on them?"

"You mean you aren't?"

"Not since I got engaged to Gwen!"

"Which is why Joyce thinks you're going to give her your phone number when they come round to do the final cabin check."

"Joyce?"

"Flight attendant."

"Why would she think that?"

"Oh, I dunno. Probably something to do with the bedroom eyes you lobbed at her five minutes ago."

"I did not 'lob' bedroom eyes at her! Image!"

"Ah. My mistake. And, er, thanks for offering to share your nuts."

Jack gapes. "You did NOT just say that!"

Ianto settles into his seat and smiles, making Jack keenly aware that he does not ever want to get on Ianto's bad side, and that if he loses focus on getting Gwen back, he is going to be in a _lot_ of trouble.

An hour later, Jack sits in his darkened seat. He'd read, but he worries that the light would disturb Ianto, who is about as soundly asleep as anyone could expect to be in economy. He doesn't really want Ianto to wake up. The man makes him nervous with his calm and his snark and his Hidden Depths. Ianto is _getting_ to him. Jack doesn't _do_ that. Well, except when he does. Like with Gwen.

Nobody got to him like Gwen, and she didn't even have perfect teeth! But when they got together, she was sweet and snarky and passionate and incredibly good at sex. She was also gorgeous, persistent, and didn't let him get away with anything. He adored her then. He still does. Totally. She's lovely and perfect for him. She'll give him the perfect life he's always wanted, but without any of the boredom he feared. And their children will be incredible, although they'll probably need braces to correct their teeth. But Gwen doesn't really want to give up her career for kids, so they probably won't have them, anyway. That's really okay with Jack. On the one hand, it would be a pity not to carry on his gene pool, while on the other, it would free him and Gwen up to enjoy the world and each other. Several times a day, he hoped, although it had been more like once or twice a week, lately. If he was lucky.

A shift and a moan catch Jack's attention.

Ianto's eyes are flicking back and forth under their lids and his hand is twitching, his lips forming shapes around unintelligible sounds. His breathing changes, becomes shallow, and his eyes snap open, pupils dilated as he pants and stares.

Jack keeps a wary eye on him as his breathing calms and his eyes start to focus. "Are you okay?" He keeps his voice soft, soothing, but stays very aware of where his Glock is.

"F-fine, thanks."

The stutter is barely noticeable, and Jack would have missed it if not for being on air marshal duty – if only in his head, and in that moment.

Ianto breathes. "Sorry about that. Bad dream."

"I gathered. You know, you might get some more sleep if you took your jacket off."

"Bit chilly for that."

"You can have my blanket, if you like. I never use 'em."

"You won't get cold?"

"Nah. I'm like a furnace."

Ianto smirks. "Trying to say you're hot?"

"Hey, I don't need to try!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't wear that aftershave."

Jack frowns. "I don't wear any aftershave."

"Oh. You, er, smell like that naturally?"

"Like what? How do I smell? I smell?"

"Never mind. Just... yes, please."

"Huh?"

"The blanket..."

"Oh! Here.... And really, do I smell?"

"It's ... good." Ianto removes his jacket with a flexibility that tempts Jack in ways that it shouldn't.

"I took a shower—"

"Jack!"

"Sorry...."

Ianto folds his jacket carefully and stows it in the overhead compartment, giving Jack a really good view of a long, lean torso, albeit covered by a stark, white shirt. He sits back down and loosens his collar and tie.

"No wonder you had bad dreams! How can you sleep with that thing around your neck?"

"It isn't so bad, once you get used to it." Ianto fastens his seatbelt loosely and unwraps the blanket Jack gave him. "Thanks for this."

"You're welcome. And, uh, if you need me to, uh, wash, just let me know."

Ianto settles himself under the blankets and covers most of his face, turning away. "Jack... you smell good."

Jack peeks over at Ianto and thinks he sees a blush on the top edge of the man's right ear.

Jack grins. "Thanks! You don't smell so bad, yourself."

"Thanks."

Jack thinks he can actually hear the 'Shut up!' that Ianto is not-saying. He can't stop smiling for the next thirty seconds.

A few minutes later, he decides to try to sleep. Never an easy thing, it's an even worse prospect on a plane. He usually sleeps on his back, but that won't work in a cramped seat in economy that won't recline far enough to let his head rest properly that way.

He looks at Ianto, who is already drifting into sleep. _How the hell do you do that?_ The blanket has slipped slightly, and Jack can see the contour of Ianto's cheekbone – quite pronounced from this angle, and much sexier than he'd noticed before. It's highlighted by the sweep of soft lashes that also bring out the pale vibrancy of Ianto's flesh, especially in the eerie glow of stray reading lights in a dimmed cabin. It reminds him of Gwen's sharp contrast of hair and skin, and he stifles a growl and turns abruptly to face the window, curling as best he can into the wall and cursing as the engine noise judders through his skull. He turns back toward Ianto and tries to settle, only to find his pillow and head slipping down too close to his seatmate. He huffs and turns again, scrunching himself into a strained, 'S'-like shape with his head fitting poorly into the crook of the headrest. He starts counting sheep. _Fucking Welsh!_

Jack's eyes snap open and though he can't remember why he is panicked, he puts it down to dreaming about Gray again.

And then he feels the weight and shape of a head on his shoulder. He holds very still and tunes in to the feel of soft hair against his cheek, the twitch of facial muscles against his shoulder, the gentle steadiness of Ianto's breathing. And then there's that scent that he really shouldn't notice and does.

What will happen if he wakes Ianto? What about if he doesn't? _Oh, crap... Awkward!_

And then Ianto is twitching again, and some instinct has Jack reaching for the landing card he hasn't filled out, yet. "Jeez!"

Ianto starts awake, and Jack congratulates himself on cocking his head toward the window, or they'd both have some sort of concussion. "Unh..."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you..." Jack cuts his eyes to the left in time to see Ianto struggle with something that looks like fear. He looks back at the card. "I just—sonofabitch!"

"What's the matter?" There is something of genuine concern in Ianto's voice, which startles Jack.

"I don't know the address!"

Ianto rubs his eyes. And then looks up sharply. "Was I sleeping on you?"

"Um, yeah...."

"Sorry." Ianto's ears turn pink.

"Never mind that! How'm I gonna fill this out?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This!" Jack shoves the landing card in Ianto's face and jabs his pen against the address line.

Ianto pushes Jack's hand back and squints at the card. "Um ... you write in the address?"

"I don't know the address!"

The men behind them start muttering in French.

"Sorry about him."

"Hey!"

"Jack, it's ... two and a half hours before we land. People are trying to sleep."

"Sorry." It sounds petulant, even to Jack. He sighs. "Sorry, guys," he says. "Bad day."

The Frenchman Jack can actually see gives him a dirty look and settles back into his seat, looking just as weary as Jack feels.

Ianto stretches and shifts in the tiny space. "You don't need the whole address, you know."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah. Just give the name of the hotel and the town, and they'll let you in. If you control yourself."

"I'm not staying at a hotel. I'm staying with Gwen's parents."

"Okay, then, just give their names and town. D'you know the street name?"

"No."

"You have a phone number, though, yeah?"

"Um...."

"Town?"

"Some suburb near Cardiff with a lot of consonants...."

Ianto breathes in. "Names?"

"Um ... Abergavenny, Snowdon, Bristol—"

"Of her parents."

"Oh! Cooper. Mary and, um, Jerry?"

"Ah. That narrows it down, a bit." Ianto rubs his forehead. "Look, why don't you just fill in everything else, and maybe it'll come to you? You don't actually have to have it finished on the plane."

"Oh. Okay, thanks."

"You, erm, haven't been to the UK before, have you?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. Just wondering."

Jack glares at Ianto, but the man's smirk refuses to go away. And dammit, it's a sexy smirk! He growls and turns away, forcing himself back into the sleeping position he'd made up earlier.

*****

"Jack."

The voice is soft. Soothing.

"Jack..."

The voice is not Gwen. He burrows into the pillow...which is kind of hard. And seems to have its own heat. And the crook of the headrest is on the other side from where it should be. And it has a pulse.

Jack freezes and blinks, taking stock. "I'm sleeping on you, aren't I?"

"Yup."

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Turnabout's fair play."

Jack sits up, careful not to bump heads with Ianto. "How long?"

"I'm not sure. You were there when I woke up, and that was about twenty minutes ago."

"Oh. Um... Wow! Um... Thanks for letting me sleep."

"No problem."

"I smell coffee."

"If you can call it that," snorts Ianto. "But yeah, this is the wake-up snack. And, er, probably your last chance to wash up before we land."

"I'm good, thanks."

"You sure? Heathrow's a big airport, and it'll be a fifteen minute walk to Passport Control, and you'll have to explain your weapon, so—"

"Okay, good point." Jack rises, creaking and groaning as he remembers how tall he is when he stands up.

Ianto rises to let him out, and Jack notices both that they are the same height, and that Ianto's shirt isn't wrinkled. Nor is it even slightly untucked. "I think the empty one is that way." Ianto points towards the front of the plane.

Jack looks up to see Ianto giving him an odd smile and knows he's been caught staring. "Thanks." He turns to seek refuge in the bathroom, which is almost as cramped as his seat.

The plane bumps a bit, and he is reminded abruptly of his fear of flying as he thinks about how airplane lavatories actually work – or more like, how they used to work. He chooses to sit so that he doesn't have to look, and he closes his eyes before he flushes.

He washes his hands, wets a paper towel and rinses his face with it – no way is he going to stick his face near that sink everyone's been using! And then he dares a look in the mirror. "Hey! Not bad." He grins at himself, and peers at what looked like a spot on his bicuspid, but which is really just a trick of the light.

And then he remembers the earlier conversation with Ianto and sniffs his underarms. "Jesus!" He all but rips off his jacket – he's careful about where he puts it, because he likes that supple leather – his holster and the tee underneath. The soap smells awful, so he rinses more thoroughly than he would have otherwise. He does take pride, though, in not getting a drop on his pants.

But as he puts himself back together and dons his jacket again, adjusting it over his weapon, the picture of Gwen nearly falls out of the inside pocket. He pulls it out to reseat it, but it stops him dead. It always has. She always has. She's so gorgeous that the sight of her always takes his breath away. And she's so sweet and smart that she got through his cynicism and straight to his heart. "You weren't supposed to do that," he whispers, thumbing the photo.

He sighs and forces himself to put it back. He hardly notices the plane shaking as he walks back to his seat.

Not until Ianto catches him as the captain announces that he's turning the seatbelt sign on due to unexpected turbulence.

Torn between cursing and thanking Ianto, Jack settles on, "Mmmph!"

"Sorry." Ianto barely balances, fighting both the plane and Jack's attempts to right himself without help.

"Sorry..." Jack stumbles again as the plane yaws. "God, I hate that!" He's just about freed himself from Ianto when the plane rolls, first to the left and then to the right.

And with that, Ianto effectively helps the plane to roll them both into their seats. Perhaps a little too effectively, because Ianto is thrown against Jack, who catches him.

"Flight attendants, please take your seats," comes the captain's voice. "Sorry, folks, but we're suspending food service while we get through this bumpy patch."

Ianto's head turns, and he is nose-to-nose with Jack.

"Really?"

They both say it.

And then they are both laughing and clutching each other as the plane pitches and yaws and rolls, convincing Jack that the wings are going to fall off.

And Ianto is trembling under Jack's hands, even as he laughs, and they are looking into each other's eyes.

They go quiet, even as the plane fights the unruly air and the other passengers moan and gasp.

Ianto's eyes are startling. Jack hadn't noticed them before – blue, deep-set, clear. Searching. Crinkled from smiling. Vulnerable.

Jack is practically caressing Ianto's arms, almost supporting the man. He searches Ianto's eyes and sees something he doesn't think he should notice because of the way it makes him want the person there. His hand travels up to Ianto's shoulder blade, soothing away the fear he knows they both feel. Their faces are so close together that they could kiss with just the slightest movement. Their noses brush. Jack lets himself think of how it would feel to kiss that soft, smooth skin, to suck on those parted lips and run his hand through that short, thick hair, to—

"Jack..."

And oh, God, would feeling that sexy voice against his ear excite him even more than feeling it warm his lips? He has to kiss—

"Jack. I should, er, go."

Jack blinks and notices that the plane is quiet again, both in noise and motion. He also notices that Ianto hasn't pulled away.

The seatbelt sign gives a deafening bong, and Ianto shifts. "I should go." He glances toward the front of the plane and back at Jack's eyes. "Big airport," he says, at last.

"Big—oh! Oh, sorry." Jack releases Ianto, hands lingering as Ianto pulls away.

They're in an odd jumble of limbs, so Ianto has to push himself off Jack. It's not so much that he takes Jack's hand, as that he accidentally brushes it rather firmly.

And perhaps that wouldn't have mattered if Jack hadn't noticed a certain contour to Ianto's pants – 'trousers' he supposes Ianto would call them. And that makes him think of Gwen. With that Williams guy. And that pretty much quells his own erection, which really isn't supposed to happen when he's thinking about the woman he wants to marry.

*****

There are times when working for MI5 gives a man with a past an edge he never thought he'd have. After a long flight with a fractious seatmate and nowhere else to move, Ianto Jones is positively giddy with joy as he breezes through IRIS and heads towards Baggage Reclaim. He'll check to see who's on duty before he decides which passage to go through. It shouldn't be too hard to go through 'Nothing to declare', and it would be awkward explaining to his supervisor just why he had taken his weapon with him when he was travelling on unofficial business. On the other hand, if they did spot-check him and find the thing, he'd be in far worse trouble, especially if Mickey was on duty.

He is pulled out of his dilemma by an altercation at one of the Passport Control kiosks, and his heart flutters and sinks, all at once. He doesn't have to look to know that it's Harkness, but he looks anyway, because the man is awfully handsome, and he can't _not_ look.

"I forgot their address, okay?"

"Do you have their phone number?"

"No."

"The name of the town or city they live in?"

"Cardiff!"

"Cardiff."

"Yeah, sort of. It's some small town on the outskirts."

"It might help if we had a better idea of their names."

"I wrote them down!"

"'Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, Somewhere in Wales' doesn't give us much identifying information, Mr. Harkness."

Ianto realises that he's staring when someone bumps into him from behind and mumbles an apology that sounds more like a curse. He also realises for the first time just how fascinated he is by watching car crashes happening in slow motion.

And just when he shifts and resumes his journey to Baggage Reclaim, an American voice he doesn't recognise yells, "Gun!"

Ianto whips around as the room is plunged into chaos, and sees Jack doing the same. He is impressed that Jack does not draw his weapon, but looks around and keeps his options open. He is even more impressed when the passenger who shouted points the security people to Jack, who raises his hands and lets them disarm him. He is surprised to see Jack so calm.

And then he moves.

"Come with us please, sir."

"Mind if I tag along?" Ianto shows them his card. "Ianto Jones, MI5. Captain Harkness is a colleague of mine."

"Is he, now?"

"Yes. We're working on a case together." Ianto glances sharply at Jack, who is looking guardedly at him, in return. Ianto takes a breath. "In fact, he's staying with me."

The security guard eyes his card and then him. "Well, you'd best come along, then."

*****

Jack cannot help looking at Ianto. The man moves with a combination of grace and stiffness that rivets him. It's one of the sexiest things Jack has ever seen, and may just save the life of one Ianto Jones, MI5, who is now at the top of Jack's list of people to kill. In fact, as Ianto bends over to retrieve his bag, Jack can't figure out whether he's more interested in kicking that tempting ass onto the carousel or stripping it naked and—

"Want to stick yourself in here, while there's an opening?"

Jack blinks as his brain comes undone.

Ianto points at the space that's just opened up beside him. "I don't know what your baggage looks like."

"Oh! Lack of sleep. Sorry." Jack moves in beside Ianto and scans the carousel for his bag.

"What colour is it?"

"Black."

"Brilliant choice."

"Hey, the only other choice was pink!"

It's Ianto's turn to blink, apparently. "Erm—"

"Amy – my co-worker? She, um ... don't ask!"

"Okay! Here are some black ones coming down the line..."

Jack focuses. _Too small, too big, nope, red string, ripped – that better not be mine – blue flower, pink teddy-bear thing, that might be it..._ He picks up a bag and checks for his name on the bag tag. "Peter Jackson. Seen a hobbit around here?"

"There are quite a few Peter Jacksons in the world." Ianto gives him one of those smirks.

"Yeah, right." Jack slings the bag back onto the carousel. _Too lumpy, too round, too big, HELL no, too yellow, green, red, orange – ugh! – pink, brrrooowwwn ... yes, definitely brown, that looks familiar – right size and shape, and...._ He picks up the bag and finds his name on it. "So how many Jack Harknesses do you think are out there?"

"Better check the number."

Jack rolls his eyes. "It's mine. Let's just get the hell out of here."

"Right this way."

"Okay, okay!"

"Don't mind him, George. He's just psychotic."

"Hey!"

"Ah, that's all right, mate. We all go a bit off when we get hitched, right?" George claps Jack on the back, nearly knocking him over.

"Yeah." Jack really wants to kill Ianto, now.

"And working on an international case two weeks before your wedding?" George shakes his head. "My fiancée would go off with the milkman, if I did that."

Jack would turn around and deck the guy, but Ianto's hand is on his back.

"Good thing she just happens to be in Wales visiting her parents, isn't it?"

Jack shakes Ianto's hand off and marches towards the exit, only to be caught by both George and Ianto.

"Steady on, mate," says George.

Ianto is suddenly very close to Jack's left ear. "If you calm down now, you can hit me later."

"How much later?" Jack growls it quietly enough that even if George hears it, he won't admit it.

"Newport. There's a bar. It's what people do there."

"I want to get to Cardiff!"

"Newport's on the way," says George.

"Last stop before Cardiff," Ianto supplies.

"Fine! I'll sock you one in Newport! Wait... last stop? I'm renting a car! I'm supposed to pick it up at..." Jack looks at his watch. "An hour and a half ago!"

"I think that I can say with absolute certainty that nobody who works for the British government will allow you to drive in your present state. George?"

"I concur with that assessment."

"Okay, fine, so you'll drive! We're going to your place, anyway."

"I'm also too tired to drive, Jack. Why do you think I planned to take the train?"

"I can't do trains!"

"Well, I suppose you could book a flight to Cardiff," George offers.

"No!"

Jack hears the same horror in Ianto's voice as is in his own.

"So it's the train, then," says George, "and I'm going to go with you to Paddington, just to make sure you catch it properly."

*****

"Coffee or tea, sir?"

Ianto glances up from his paper. "Tea, please. Thanks."

"Milk and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

"Coffee for me. Black." Jack rubs his eyes. "Thank you."

The server smiles at Jack, practically batting his eyelashes. "You're welcome, sir."

Jack shakes his head as the guy leaves. "Why do they always think I'm gay?"

"I couldn't possibly say. Although it might help if you raised your eyes above the waist."

"Hey, I'm sitting down and I'm tired! My eyes just naturally fall there." Jack raises the coffee cup to his lips.

"I wouldn't drink that, if I were you."

"Why not? Did he piss in it, or something?"

"I doubt it, but—"

"Ugh!" Jack just barely avoids a spit-take. "That's disgusting!"

"I did try to warn you."

"What do they do here? Dig up some dirt and boil it in the toilet?"

"Almost as bad as what you Americans do to tea."

"I hate tea!"

"See?"

"It's like someone took a brown crayon and dipped it in hot water."

"Not when you do it right." Ianto pushes his tea toward Jack. "I haven't touched it yet, if you need the caffeine."

Jack sees the challenge in Ianto's eyes and lifts the cup. "Cheers," he snarls. And then he tastes. "That's – oh. That's not crayon water. Not sure I like it, but...." He sips again and gets the sense that there might be something to this tea thing. "Thanks." He pushes the tea back toward Ianto.

Ianto glances at it furtively.

"Looks like you need the caffeine as much as I do."

"I am considering murdering that coffee." There's an element in Ianto's voice that goes straight to Jack's groin.

"Murder is the best thing that can happen to it."

Quick as lightning, Ianto screws up his face and grabs the coffee, quaffing it as he might the first part of a boilermaker. His face afterwards is a caricature of pain.

"Want a chaser?" Jack tries hard to stifle his smirk as he pushes the tea even closer to Ianto.

Ianto shakes his head. "Stuff took out my oesophagus."

Jack sips the tea. "So should I be scared of the rest of breakfast on this train?"

"It won't kill you, but you'll wonder why everything's suddenly so grey and dismal in life."

Jack feels his eyes widen over the top of his tea.

"But don't worry. It's after ten, so they're serving lunch, instead."

"And that's better, right?"

"Not really, no."

"Sandwich, sir? Piece of fruit?"

Jack eyes the trolley, which seems suspiciously devoid of sandwiches and sports what appears to be a covered basket. "What have you got?"

"Egg salad or smoked salmon and cream cheese, sir."

"I'll have the salmon, please."

The server turns his attention to Ianto with barely suppressed annoyance and a practised smile. "Yes, sir." He pulls a package from the innards of the trolley and hands it to Ianto. "Fruit?"

Jack just manages not to snigger.

Ianto maintains his own polite mask. "What's on the menu?"

"Apples. Russets or Delicious."

"Russet, please."

"Good choice, sir."

Ianto takes his apple, which looks to Jack as though it's been through a skirmish in Afghanistan, even though it's completely unbruised. He catches Jack's grimace. "They're ugly, but they taste delicious."

"I thought that's what the Delicious was for."

"They lied."

"And to drink, sir?"

"Still water, please."

The server hands the bottle to Ianto and turns to Jack, his smile turning from practised to hungry. "And for you, sir?" His voice has mellowed, become syrupy.

Jack looks at Ianto's sandwich. He's never been much for smoked salmon, and he really does love egg salad.

Ianto strokes his fingers over his sandwich packet, giving Jack a direct, cautionary look.

"I'll have what he's having."

"Excellent choice, sir," purrs the server. "And to drink?"

"What are the options?"

"Juice or water, sir."

"Water, please."

"Still or sparkling?

"Huh?"

"'Still' in this case means 'non-carbonated'." There is a smirk playing about Ianto's mouth that would be edible if not for the way his calm voice makes Jack want to kill him.

"Sparkling." Jack doesn't really like sparkling water.

When the server finally leaves, Jack unwraps his sandwich. It looks like something a commercial food supplier would photograph for their wholesale clients, but it feels like somebody might have pulled it out of a bath and squeezed it dry. Ish.

"It's best if you sort of shut your eyes and go for it." Ianto takes his sandwich firmly in his fingertips and demonstrates. "The salmon's not too bad, actually."

"Oh, great, so the part I like least is the best thing about the sandwich?"

"You've never had Scottish smoked salmon, have you?"

"No."

"Good, then you won't be disappointed."

Jack sighs and emulates Ianto. His face is still squinched up as Ianto starts laughing quietly. "What?!"

"If you eat your apple like that, you'll die and I'll get through Newport unscathed."

Jack looks up at him and blinks. Then he looks down at his sandwich, which is gone. And then he looks at his watch. "Jesus!"

"Hungry?" Ianto makes an offertory gesture at the untouched half of his sandwich.

Jack uncaps his water and knocks some back. "Not that hungry."

Ianto shrugs and finishes up the first half.

"Did you have to tell them I was meeting Gwen?"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it? At least, what you want to be the truth, right?"

"Two weeks before a non-existent wedding? While I'm working on a non-existent case?"

"'When performing covert operations, always stay as close to the truth as you can without compromising the mission.' Would you rather I told them you were stalking your runaway fiancée with a semi-automatic firearm that you managed to take with you by impersonating an air marshal?"

Jack takes a vicious bite out of his apple. "What if they tell her?" he mutters through his chewing.

"Paranoia, as well. That would've upped your odds, considerably. Besides, I told them it was a surprise, remember?"

Jack growls over his apple. "How long before we get to Newport?"

Ianto looks at his watch. "About an hour and twelve minutes, according to the schedule."

"Too long." Jack demolishes half his apple.

"Yup."

Jack looks sharply at Ianto.

"Always good to test a colleague's mettle, now and then. Bit like deer buttin' antlers."

Jack notices the way Ianto dropped the 'g', and is reminded again just how Welsh the man is, and how much that annoys him as the train speeds inexorably closer to Cardiff. So Jack isn't sure what disturbs him more: that Ianto isn't finishing lunch and is looking tired and troubled, or that he, Jack, is having a bit too much joy in noticing that. "Sandwich making you sick, huh? So much for First Class."

"What? Oh, no. The sandwich is fine."

"I wouldn't go that far!"

Ianto glances at him with a tired smile.

"What's wrong? Too many hours on that 'case' you and I are 'working on'?"

"I suppose."

"Look, if you're tired, I could just—"

"Shut up for a bit?"

"Well, I was going to say 'move'. I mean, we are the only ones in this car. I could just let you have it to yourself." Jack isn't entirely sure why he feels hurt.

"No, that's all right. Wouldn't want you stumbling into a Quiet Car and causing an international incident."

"Quiet Car?"

"Just – find some nice seat at the other end of this car. I'm sure you're just as tired."

"Sure you won't get in trouble for not 'keeping your eyes on this one every step of the way to Cardiff'?"

Ianto sighs. "Look, just wake me up in time to get off at Newport."

"What if I'm still asleep?"

"Then I kill you in Cardiff."

*****

"Jack."

The voice is sort of familiar, though he thinks maybe it shouldn't be.

"Jack! Time to get off the train."

_His name is Ianto Jones. I'm on a train. It's time to get off. We must be in Wales!_ Jack catapults from his seat, hitting his knees on the table. "Ow!"

Ianto all but hoists him up.

"OWW!"

"Sorry, but we're being asked to leave." Ianto twitches his head toward the conductor.

"What? Did I snore?"

"No, sir. It's the end of the line, is all." The conductor hands Jack a suitcase, and Ianto grabs the other one.

"We slept through Newport?"

"You could say that. Can you walk on your own?"

"Yeah."

Ianto lets him go.

"Thanks." Jack gets off the train with Ianto behind him, and looks left to see a mountain. "Wow! This is Cardiff? I was expecting a more urban setting."

"Yes, well—"

"Hey, Ianto. Thanks for getting me through customs." He sticks out his hand.

Ianto shakes it. "No problem. We should—"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll just go grab a hotel. I don't have to stay with you."

"Erm—"

"No wonder Gwen wanted to come back here! Look how beautiful this place is!"

"Glad you like something about Wales. Jack—"

"Look, I've kept you too long already. Thanks for everything, really." He claps Ianto on the back and starts moving toward the station.

"Cardiff doesn't have mountains."

Jack doesn't quite understand the instinct that makes him stop and freeze up inside.

"This is Swansea."

Jack takes a breath. "Okay, so why didn't we just stay on that train 'til it went back?"

"They said they needed to take it off for repairs."

"Oh, great! So I just rode a defective train for, like, a thousand miles—"

"More like a hundred and fifty."

"Whatever! When's the next train back?"

"About an hour from now."

"How 'bout renting a car?"

"Train's cheaper."

"And it takes – how long does it take?"

"An hour, give or take."

"So that's two hours when I could drive a car for – how far away is Cardiff?"

"Forty miles give or take."

Jack pulls out his iPhone. "So, I've heard of Swansea, which must mean it's big enough to have a car rental place, right?"

Ianto falls silent, looking as though he's trying to choose between being marooned on a desert island or hitching a ride with Long John Silver.

Jack growls out a loud sigh. "Look, you can take the train if you want, but I'm gettin' a car!" He strides into the building, taking satisfaction from scattering people in his wake.

The station is pathetic. If Jack were in charge, he'd gut the whole place and make it sparkle with businesses and information booths. And a car rental place, which he can't find. He's making his way over to what appears to be a staff person, wondering why his suitcase doesn't seem to be cooperating, when someone grabs his arm. He swings around with drawn fist to find Ianto eying him.

"You've got something of mine." Ianto points downward, never taking his eyes off Jack's.

"Yeah, I thought it felt weird." Jack locks his eyes on Ianto's and thinks of the deer-butting line from earlier. "Wanna go find a bar and fight for it?"

"Nothing in there would fit you, and nothing I own is anything you'd ever wear."

"Fine."

They continue to glare at each other.

"Got any idea where to rent a car?"

"Yup." Ianto points to a spot above and behind Jack.

"I'm not falling for that one."

"And I'm not going to start a fist-fight in a railway station." Ianto hasn't once blinked or taken his eyes from Jack's.

"Okay, this is very homoerotic..."

Ianto blinks.

"Made you blink! If I were a bad guy, you'd be dead by now."

Ianto shakes his head in disbelief, still holding Jack's gaze. "Just give me back my fucking baggage and then when I leave, look behind you at the Avis sign I was trying to point out."

Jack breaks the stare and passes a hand over his face. "Do we make the trade here, or go find a deserted bridge and mood lighting?"

Ianto actually cracks a smile as he hands back the bag Jack didn't know he was missing. "Here's fine. Keeps Wales safe."

Jack returns Ianto's bag. Their hands brush, and the resulting jolt isn't nearly as irritating as he thinks it should be.

It doesn't seem to annoy Ianto as much as it should, either. It isn't that he lingers, exactly. He just doesn't move as professionally as Jack has become accustomed to seeing from him.

"Um..."

Ianto gives him a quizzical look.

"You sure you don't want to come with me? You'd get home earlier."

"I want to get home alive."

"I'm a good driver!"

"Ever driven on the left?"

"Um... you could drive, this time?"

"I suppose I could. But cars are expensive. I don't want to pay more than the cost of a train ticket."

Jack holds out his hand. "Done!" It's as Ianto is shaking it that he remembers to ask, "How much is a ticket to Cardiff?"

"Six quid fifty."

"And how much to rent a car?"

"I don't know."

Jack grins, in spite of himself. "Okay, let's go find out." He stops mid-step. "Do they take American money? I forgot to get pounds."

"You've got a credit card, yeah?"

"Yeah, but it's American. Will it work here?"

Ianto rolls his eyes and looks as though he's mouthing a rather grumpy prayer. He leans close. "They didn't let you out much when you were flying for special ops, did they?"

Jack can't seem to make himself respond. He's still neurally challenged by the dark, husky feel of Ianto's voice that close to his ear. In public. And public sex is one of his favourite kinks. And then Ianto's hand is on his shoulder, and Jack feels like he might come right there and then.

"Come on. We're getting a taxi."

*****

"Sixty-three pounds!" Jack glares at Ianto.

"And no collision coverage, which means you don't touch the steering wheel."

"Sixty-three pounds! For a—" Jack looks at the receipt. "A Nissan Note? What the hell is a Nissan Note?"

Ianto scans the car bays and points. "That's a Note."

Jack follows his finger to find what looks like a tiny, weirdly-shaped van. A blue, tiny, weirdly-shaped van. Which isn't a van, at all. And is not just blue. It's the bluest of all possible blue cars that he's ever seen. Jack likes to think that he has an eye for colour and decor, and he absolutely loves blue, but he has no words to describe this shade of blue other than just _blue_. He touches the car, mesmerized. "It's blue."

"Yup. A blue Note."

Jack snaps back to reality. "Very funny! Too bad it's the least jazzy car in the world." He moves toward the passenger side.

"Wrong side, Jack."

"Huh? I thought you were driving."

"I am."

Jack blinks, feeling fuzzy inside, and opens the door. "Oh. Sorry."

To Jack's surprise, Ianto smiles again. "It used to confuse Lisa all the time."

Jack fits himself into the passenger seat, watching as Ianto inserts the key and moves the seat back. _Wow! Great legs!_

Ianto takes a quick inventory of the controls, adjusts the mirrors and starts the car. "And she was the one who actually drove." He looks at Jack. "Fasten your seatbelt, please."

Jack scrambles for the belt. "I thought you knew how to drive!" He slots the tab in just as Ianto throws the car into reverse.

"I do. I just don't do it very often. I hate cars."

"Oh, God!"

*****

It's four o'clock in the afternoon. It's raining. The sun's starting to go down, but for Ianto, it might as well be midnight. He's exhausted, irritated, and none too pleased that he must now wake—

"We here? Where am I?"

—Harkness.

Ianto forces a smile onto his face. "We're at my place."

"Cardiff, right?" Harkness rubs his eyes and blinks up at Ianto. His smile seems genuine, which makes Ianto want to kill him just a bit.

"Yup. Come on."

"Wow, it's dark! What time is it?"

"Four o'clock, just gone."

"In the morning?"

"It's Wales, January, and it's raining."

"You say that like it explains everything." Harkness looks at the rain, then around at every building within sight, then at the driver's seat.

"It does," mutters Ianto.

"Where's the hotel?"

"There isn't one." Ianto glances at the rain, trying hard to plan his ten-foot route into the building. Normally it isn't an issue, but not sleeping properly in days, he's feeling like rotten meat. The conversation with his supervisor whilst Harkness was sleeping in the car hadn't brought him any joy, either. It was a bloody miracle that Harkness slept through everything, including the twenty-minute stop at the Welcome Break to legally answer Owen's call. He'd kept an eye on Harkness from under a tree.

"What, there aren't any hotels in Cardiff? The capital of Wales??"

"Well, so you do know something about Wales, then." Ianto gets out of the car, pocketing the key, and retrieves both of their bags. "And you're staying at mine."

"Wait – why?"

Ianto would laugh at the fearful confusion in Jack's – Harkness' – voice, but he's way past too tired, especially after the last hour of their journey, which had been a solid traffic jam. "Because I told Her Majesty's Government that you would, and they're fucking holding me to it."

"I can sleep in the car?"

"Just—" Ianto wipes his brow and resets. "Look, just come on in," he manages, with a lot more patience than he'd thought possible. "And be thankful for the sun setting early, yeah? Even after you slept all the way from Swansea, you look like you could use a good night."

"You have no idea." The smile Jack – Harkness – gives him all but lights up the car park, even through the rainy gloom.

"That makes two of us." Ianto's own smile feels genuine, if too strenuous for his current state, and they stumble through the door and up the stairs to Ianto's first-floor flat.

Ianto looks around at the place, fighting the grief that still strikes him at the blending of his and Lisa's self-expression. He hasn't been here for weeks, and this is the first time anyone else has come round since Lisa was killed. _At least it's a colleague. Almost._

"Oh, wow! I like the leather couch!"

"Good. You're sleeping on it."

Jack – Harkness, damn it! – throws himself on it and grins. "Comfy!" He looks up at Ianto. "No spare room?"

"Not as such, no." Ianto trudges towards the deafening call of his bed.

"Hey, wait! Aren't you going to give me the grand tour?"

"Sofa, television, bookshelf, kitchen, bathroom, rooms where you're not allowed."

"You'd make a good flight attendant."

Ianto stops himself from growling by going into his bedroom and plucking a blanket from the floor. He almost does that with a towel that needs washing, but it smells suspiciously of mould, and he doesn't want Owen – _Doctor_ Harper – to call him into the office unnecessarily. He sighs and fetches a clean towel – his last – from the top shelf of his closet. As he leaves, he glances at the bed. His side is dire, hers is immaculate, as he has kept it.

He bolts. "Here's a—"

Harkness – Jack – is asleep in the most unlikely position Ianto has ever seen.

_You look like your head sank into your neck and your chest is trying to swallow the whole lot._

Jack's breathing gets a bit ragged and he shifts, throwing his left arm over his head at an angle set to dislocate something – neck or shoulder, Ianto can't be sure.

The position reminds Ianto of Lisa, and how she used to flump down onto the sofa with her long beautiful limbs scattered about the cushions in gangly, impossible ways that made him helpless until she'd look soulfully at him in that way that always meant, "Take-away night?"

Before he quite realises what he's doing, Ianto squats to remove Jack's shoes – boots, more like, and they look quite comfortable and don't smell as bad as he expected. He's done this so many times before that he's not surprised when Jack doesn't wake up. He has to think a bit about how to manoeuvre Jack's impressive frame onto the sofa without breaking something or risking his own dismemberment, but this, too, is familiar. The memory of a bruise array from one of his earlier attempts with Lisa guides him as he moves in close and simply arranges Jack with warmth and efficiency, exactly as she had tolerated it.

Jack settles further into the sofa as Ianto covers him with the dirty blanket. It doesn't stink as badly as Ianto had initially hoped, and it annoys him that he is grateful for that.

Unthinking, Ianto is tucking the blanket around Jack's shoulders when Jack shifts and gives a happy moan and reaches for him.

Ianto stills, hand resting on Jack's shoulder.

Jack pulls him sloppily close and kisses him. On the lips. With tongue.

And Ianto responds, damning himself as he tingles with it.

Jack pulls away with a dreamy half-smile. His eyes are open.

Ianto holds very still.

Jack doesn't seem to be awake. His eyes close again as he murmurs, "Gwen..." and lets his arms crumple into a position that probably means he'll sleep for hours.

Something about that vulnerability pinches something back to life in Ianto, and it stings. He withdraws very carefully, placing the towel on the coffee table. Sleep will happen for him, but he wishes that it didn't have to be while he's thinking that for the third time since he met Jack Harkness, he's hard. And nobody's made him hard since Lisa died.

He strips and gets into bed. He refuses to wank with Jack Harkness occupying any part of his mind, but the more he thinks about it, the harder he gets. And then he remembers that Jack called him Gwen, and he deflates at the thought that he kisses like a girl. He dreams about a man in an RAF greatcoat making mad, passionate love to him, fondling his very nicely shaped breasts and sinking deep into his vagina.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ianto awakens with a start. He's sweating and shaking, and he can't remember why. Nor is he sure why his hand is clutching his dick. Or why he feels particularly relieved that he still has one.

And then he realises that his mobile is bonging at him.

It's Owen's ringtone.

He dives for the phone, but misses the call on the ominous final Bong. He rubs his eyes and blinks, looking at the time. He blinks again before his eyes widen in horror. "Shit!"

He stumbles out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, uses the loo, has the fastest shower in the world and throws a towel around his waist. "Jack." He moves into the lounge, listening carefully for responses.

Nothing.

"Jack!"

Still nothing, and Ianto doesn't have the luxury of time. Taking life and dignity in hand, he rounds the sofa and shakes Jack's shoulder firmly. "Jack, wake up!"

Jack flails, hands grabbing until he clutches at Ianto's towel.

It is very likely that Ianto will never know quite how he ends up clutching Jack Harkness' hand to a point a centimetre away from the base of his cock, but at least his towel is still on.

"Huh?"

"It's half past one, and you have to get up."

"It's – What?" Jack swallows. "Go away!"

"That would be easier if you let my towel go."

Jack starts to close his eyes again, but does a double-take. The look on his face would be comical if the situation weren't so dire. His eyes travel along the path of his arm to where his hand is clutching Ianto's towel at the waist. The very low-slung waist. His eyes change. "That'd be easier if you let go of my hand, first." His voice is tinged with morning lust.

Ianto thinks for a second about this, feeling the loosening of the towel from Jack's earlier clutching and pulling. And then he makes the mistake of looking into Jack's eyes. And damn, but anyone who looks that good in the morning should be outlawed!

Jack holds his gaze, and for a moment a clear invitation exists between them.

But then Ianto remembers that Jack is after his errant fiancée just as Jack's eyes seem to acquire a shadow of something. He takes Jack's hand in one of his own, grasping the edges of the towel with the other, and squeezes it as he removes it, handing it back to its owner. "Good point."

"So why do I have to get up?"

"Because we've got a meeting with my boss half an hour ago. Go have a shower whilst I make coffee." Ianto moves towards the kitchen so that he doesn't have to resist looking at Jack as he gets up. "No milk or sugar, I'm afraid, but you take yours black, if I recall."

"As long as it's not that crap on the train!"

"Trust me, it's not," mutters Ianto, as the bathroom door closes.

The ritual of coffee-making is always a good way to clear the mind. When they first got together, Lisa used to regale him with stories about how the mere scent of coffee woke up one's genes, and with the health and decision-making benefits of drinking the stuff he thought so vile.

But he loved her, and she loved great coffee, so he did his due diligence learning how to create the perfect cup of caffeinated experience. And she loved it, and him. That first, long-fought effort tasted so good on her lips as she thanked him for it that he couldn't help moaning his own appreciation. _"Told you it was an acquired taste,"_ she'd teased.

The rush of sound as the water approaches the boil brings him back to the present, and he fumbles for a moment, nearly dropping the bag of beans as he pours them into the grinder. Perhaps making coffee this morning, especially when there is someone new in the flat that he finds himself wanting to impress, despite all his better instincts, wasn't such a good idea, after all. And then he smells the beans, and his addiction takes over.

And then he notices that he's still more than half naked. "Fuck!" he mutters.

The water is about to reach the perfect temperature for brewing, and he cannot stop the process to get dressed, because they're already late, and Owen would just kill him more. "I've gone mental from jet-lag." He shakes his head, as though that would physically remove the weirdness on the inside of it.

As soon as the grounds and water are mingling in the cafetiere, he makes a dive for the bedroom and throws on a suit that doesn't stink. It is loose, though. He's lost more weight than he thought.

The tie he slings around his neck is the one Lisa always said looked best for business. It'll have to wait to be tied until after the coffee is pressed, which should happen ... he checks his pocket watch ... "Bugger it!"

Things only become weirder when Jack emerges from the shower. The man is even more beautiful wet, especially when naked from the waist up and hurriedly drying his hair.

And why is he, Ianto, noticing? Isn't he straight? Mostly?

Fortunately, he poured the coffee just as he heard the bathroom door opening, so all he has to do is control his hand and voice as he holds out a cup to Jack. "Coffee?"

Jack gives him an odd sort of look and takes the cup. His hand is big, and even though it's graceful, and neither of them is clumsy, a frisson of contact is unavoidable.

And then Ianto registers that there had been a hint of nervous pleading in his voice, which is almost certainly what Jack's look is about, and he is very glad that he remembered to get dressed. It's about all the dignity he could hope for, at this point.

Jack takes a sip and does a double take that makes everything worthwhile. "Wow!"

Ianto bestows a smirk upon Jack. "Better than the train, I trust." He takes a sip and frowns.

"No comparison!" Jack all but nuzzles the cup, breathing in the scent, sipping gingerly as the liquid cools.

"It's awful. Give it back!"

Jack looks up in horror. "What?! No way! Why?"

"The teakettle wasn't descaled, the beans are too old and the water was at least three degrees too hot." Ianto holds out his hand, pointedly.

"Aw, HELL no!" Jack curls himself around the cup.

Ianto steps closer, more insistent. "I'll make you a better one later, if Owen doesn't put us both in a cell."

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me? I've never had a better cup of coffee in my life, and I'm sure not giving it up if I'm going to be disappeared!"

"Then we'll get some on the way in. Or you will. Not allowed to drink and drive at the same time in this country."

Jack blinks at him. "Can you honestly tell me that there's anyone within a hundred miles of you who'd make a better cup of coffee than this?"

Ianto starts to reply.

"Because if there is, I'm moving here!"

Ianto backs away, instantly. "Never part an addict from his fix."

"Good choice! And you're not exactly a non-addict," Jack adds, looking pointedly at the cup Ianto still has in one hand.

Ianto frowns and glares at it. "Good point." He knocks back the coffee as quickly as he can – which isn't very, because it's still too hot – and puts down the cup.

"You are going to die if you keep that up." Jack sips luxuriantly at his cup. "And this doesn't deserve to be gulped down like medicine."

The sight of Jack all but kissing his coffee makes Ianto stare, unaware of anything but the shape and flexibility of Jack's lips, the soft sensuality of them as they coax the liquid between them, the way they would feel if—

"You're kinda cute when you're flustered."

Ianto reaches automatically for his tie, uncertain for a moment about exactly how he intends to use it until he remembers that he's been specifically forbidden from killing Harkness. "You have to finish getting dressed. Give me your coffee and I'll pour it into a travel mug."

"I'll take it into the bathroom with me, thanks." Jack smiles, but his voice reveals the calm of a trained operative and traces of a depth of coldness that makes Ianto shiver somewhere deep inside.

"You think I'll pour it down the sink, don't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." Jack's voice is quiet, calm, deadly in ways that Ianto wishes it weren't.

Ianto forces himself to shrug. "Suit yourself. But you can't take it in the car with you."

Jack picks up his bag. "Why not? It's a rental..."

"And you complained already about how expensive it was just to hire it. The cleaning fee would be catastrophic."

"Oh. So I'll drink it while I dress."

Ianto's lips start to move against his will.

"Carefully!"

Ianto holds Jack's gaze. "You've got five minutes."

Jack doesn't flinch as he turns slowly away, releasing Ianto's gaze only when he must.

In that moment, Ianto knows that he has been probed and given a preliminary measurement, and that one day, they'll be on a mountainside trying to butt each other off a precipice. Only he hopes that when that happens, he's nowhere near as hard as he is now.

*****

Owen Harper has a face that could scare off a thousand ships. At least, he does when he's annoyed. Which he has been, according to Ianto and even the man himself, since Customs rang him twenty-seven hours and forty-three minutes ago. No wonder Ianto didn't want to be late!

"...So I'm asking you again: What's your business here?"

"I told you before. Ten times, I think—"

"Thirteen," Ianto supplies.

Jack opens his mouth to continue, but is stymied by his own double take at Ianto's word. He shakes it off. "I'm here to get my fiancée back!"

"With a gun that you bluffed past Customs, Heathrow security and the police, thanks to your NSA clearance, your fake air marshal status and some help from this one here." Harper gestures at Ianto, who remains still, eyes down.

"I like my gun!"

"If that's the best you can do, I'm having you deported right now."

"Yeah?" Jack fixes Harper with a look. It's been an hour, and he's tired of this. "So why don't you, then? I screwed up and brought the gun through security, and there wasn't any time to take it to a secure location, so I pulled out my air marshal ID. Which isn't fake, by the way. And no, I don't intend to shoot Gwen Cooper or Rhys Williams."

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear that, when you ring them up at – where did you say she lived?"

"I told you, I don't know!"

Ianto shifts uncomfortably.

"She's your fiancée and you don't know where she lives?"

"No, I don't, okay? Look, I know about this. I know you have to ask the same thing over and over to try and crack the subject, but honestly, I came over here on ... impulse." He gives a defeated sigh.

"He is impulsive," Ianto offers from three feet away.

"So you told me over the phone." Harper's sarcasm is blatant, in-your-face. Not like Ianto's, at all. Well, not much. Okay, maybe they fell off the same tree, but Ianto's cuter.

Ianto remains silent. He must really be scared of Harper.

Jack settles into his chair. "What is this interview really about? I mean, you've threatened to deport me two or three—"

"Two," says Ianto.

"—times, and you clearly could, so why am I here? What do you really want from me? And why do I still have my gun?"

Harper leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers and gazing off into the distance. He looks at Ianto, then Jack, then Ianto again. And then the most terrifying thing in the world happens. He smiles. Harper's mouth is cavernous! More like a maw ready to devour anything in its path. And his teeth are – capped! How did a guy like him get capped teeth?

"He said you had potential." Harper nods toward Ianto, never taking his eyes off Jack. "Even your Mister Smith said something nice about you."

For the first time since they arrived at Owen Harper's strangely antiquated office, Jack perks up. "Oh, yeah? What'd he say?"

"He said, 'Oh, yeah, him'."

"Wow!"

Ianto stares at each of them, in turn. "He said, 'Oh, yeah, him' and you're emotional? Who is this Mr. Smith?"

"He's my boss."

"Not directly." Harper eyes Jack before turning to Ianto. "He's his boss's boss's boss.

"He doesn't wear dark glasses and clone himself, does he?"

"Not that I know of, but—oh, very funny!" Jack shoots a sidelong glare at Ianto.

Harper leans forward. "Have you ever met him?"

Jack shakes his head. "I don't know anyone who has."

"There's a bet on here that he's entirely CG."

"Whatever. Look, I'm hungry, and I've gotta go find Gwen. So what do you want?"

"I want you to help Ianto with his case."

Jack looks at Ianto. "What case?"

"The one I told Customs you and I were working on." Ianto's voice sounds completely unenthused.

"I thought you were just making that up to get me through." Jack can't understand the hurt he feels.

"I did, sort of. It's a real case, but you aren't working on it." Ianto glares at Harper.

Harper doesn't remove his eyes from Jack's. "You are if you want to stay in this country after entering under false pretences with an illegal weapon."

"Not with me, he's not! I work alone."

Harper slowly shifts his gaze to Ianto. "That hasn't worked out as well as we'd hoped." His words are as slow as they are measured.

Ianto is silent. Jack has never seen a flush so spectacular as the one that rushes up Ianto's neck and into his face.

"It's a tough case," Harper continues. "On many levels."

"So why don't you assign someone else in MI5?"

Harper and Ianto are both silent.

"This isn't a real case, is it?"

More silence.

"Do you even work for MI5?"

"Yeah" – Harper.  
And  
"Sort of" – Ianto.

"Let me guess... you don't really exist."

"Sort of" – Harper.  
And  
"Yeah" – Ianto.

"Okay, the problem with black ops is you can't pull in an unknown without risking your cover, which means you only do it when you've got nothing left to lose, or you plan on killing the sucker." Jack leans forward. "So what the hell is going on here, and why shouldn't I shoot the two of you right now and dump you in the bay?"

Harper snorts. "Good luck finding a place that someone isn't watching! Surveillance cameras are everywhere, even when the tourists aren't."

"Not to mention Google Earth," Ianto adds.

Jack smiles at both of them. "So?"

Harper nods slowly. "Maybe you do have all the experience Mr. Smith said you did."

"What did he say to you?" Jack knows exactly where his weapon is. He knows he'll be able to take Harper out before the man can blink. He doesn't think he'll have a problem with Ianto, whose shock will be paralysing for the full second needed to turn and fire the second round.

Harper looks Jack directly in the eye. "He said to tell you that he's loaning you to me for as long as we need you, even though you'll probably make us regret it every step of the way."

Jack nods slowly. "What else did he say?"

"'Algy would approve'."

Jack stands down. Mostly. "Okay, you're real. But I need to get Gwen back. I won't have time to help you. And I'm on leave! Why the hell did Smith let you have me?"

"Because he loves me."

Jack chokes in mid-swallow.

Ianto thumps his back. "He has that effect on people."

Jack chokes more.

"Sorry, I meant that he makes people choke."

"Oi!"

"Is that—" Jack winces and clears his throat as best he can. "Is that why you're not out there helping Ianto on his case?"

"That," says Ianto, "and his ex is involved."

Jack looks up. "Which side?"

"Which side do you think?" mutters Harper.

"Oh, this is getting interesting! But I'm busy. Call your contact at MI5 for reinforcements." Jack rises and turns. "And beads? Really? I wasn't expecting the Casbah."

"Jack..."

Something in Ianto's voice makes Jack turn back.

"We really could use your help on this."

"Oh, yeah? What's in it for me?"

"I'll help you track down Gwen."

Jack opens his mouth to refuse, and then the words sink in. "Yeah?"

Ianto nods. "Yup."

"Okay, I'll think about it, but I'm not accepting the assignment until you tell me what it is and feed me some decent food!"

"Take him to the Bosphorous," says Harper.

Ianto snorts. "And you want him to stay on our side?"

"Just go stuff some food into him! But I want you both back here in an hour. That's one hour from the moment you go through that antique beaded curtain."

*****

They are seated at a table by the window of the Mermaid Brasserie, and Jack is all but inhaling the Welsh fillet medallions of beef.

If he's honest, so is Ianto. It's been a long time since he's had a meal like this, and he can only do it now because the agency will pay for it. It's so good, his eyes are moist.

"Hey, you okay? You're eating like you haven't had a meal in weeks!"

"Feels like it." Ianto forces himself to slow down, because this is his first full meal in about five days, and he doesn't want to get sick or let Jack know anything about the truth. Although he can point out that, actually, "It has been a couple of days, come to think of it. I would've eaten on the aeroplane if you hadn't warned me off—"

"You said you weren't hungry."

"Not after you told me about them bribing the health inspector, no."

"And then there was that crap on the train." Jack snorts. "First class, my—"

"How is everything, today?"

"Fine, thanks," says Ianto.

"Great," says Jack. "Best food I've had in England."

"Wales!"

"Oh, yeah. Wales. I thought it was part of England."

Ianto looks up at the waiter. "Could we have another bottle of still water and a cup of hemlock for him, please?"

The waiter smiles with a bit too much sympathy. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have hemlock on the menu or in the pantry. I'll be happy to bring you the water, though."

"Might be a good addition."

"I shall certainly suggest it to the chef on your behalf."

Ianto gives the man a wide smile. "Thanks."

As the waiter moves off, Ianto glares at Jack.

"What? What'd I say?"

"You were with a Welsh woman for – how long?"

"Two years, give or take." Jack looks at him blankly.

"And she never told you about Wales and England? About how Owain Glyndwr was driven into the hills? How he and his men held off the English for ten years only to be starved out when they killed all his cattle and burnt his crops?" Ianto devours the meat on his fork, closing his eyes as he savours it.

Silence.

"Well?"

Jack is staring at him.

No, not at him. Past him.

Ianto waves his hand in front of Jack's eyes.

The pupils are responsive, but the man doesn't blink. "She's here."

Ianto turns and follows Jack's stare to find a mane of dark hair arranged around shapely shoulders and a slim back.

And then the mane moves and Ianto catches a glimpse of the face on the other side of the table and turns back toward Jack. "Whatever you do, don't go over there," he murmurs.

"Why not? She's what I came for." Jack starts to rise.

Ianto clamps his hand down on Jack's arm. "That's why," he hisses. "'She's _what_ I came for'? You'll never get her back if you approach her like that, especially if she's with one of her mates!"

Jack snatches his arm away, but reseats himself. "Oh, yeah?" he whispers, fiercely, "Then what, exactly, am I supposed to do?"

Ianto hesitates, thinking about this new development, and starts when Jack's tossed napkin flops against his hand.

"You're out of ideas."

"No! Look, there's no point calling attention to yourself in here. Let's see where they go."

"Why, when I can just get her right here?"

Ianto just barely resists rolling his eyes, and only because he has to keep them on Jack so they don't blow their cover. "Because you'll call. Attention. To. Yourself."

"Hey, I'm here to get her back!"

"And you think you'll do that if you get the police to issue you an ASBO?"

"What the hell is an azbo?"

"Something that'll get you barred from every establishment she'd go anywhere near in Cardiff."

"Oh." Jack might be relaxing a muscle or two in his scalp, but it's hard to see.

"Look, let's follow them around for a bit, and see where they go. Might lead you to where she lives," Ianto offers as Jack begins to stir again.

Jack clenches his teeth for a moment. "Good point," he says at last, relaxing the fingers of one hand. "But what about your case?"

"I think we can afford to take a few hours. I did say I'd help you to find your fiancée."

Jack spares Ianto a devious smile. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Jones!"

"It's nothing. Really. Just tell me when they're getting ready to leave, and don't let her see you!"

"Yeah, you know, I know how this works!"

"Yeah? Might try showing it, once in a while..."

"Wasn't I supposed to beat the crap out of you in Newport?"

"Right place, wrong way round. And it can still be arranged. Now shut up and eat your lunch!" _And let me finish mine in peace...._

"Okay. I can do that." Jack stares at what Ianto knows to be the back of Gwen Cooper's head, unblinking.

Ianto leans forward. "Can you do it like you're on a case?"

"I am!"

"I'll tell Owen we don't need your help, after all."

"Whaddya mean?"

Ianto waves his hand in front of Jack's eyes.

"Hey!"

Ianto presents the forkful of potato he managed to spear from Jack's plate whilst trying to give Jack a clue.

"Huh? Oh..."

"And just so you know, that woman she's sitting with is part of my case!"

"Why didn't you say so," Jack hisses, pushing the potato away and looking like a normal person.

"Didn't think you'd care." Ianto eats the perfect bite of beef before Jack can spoil it.

"Hey, I never ruin an ally's case. Besides, you haven't told me about it yet, and I'd be breaking a promise if I ran out on you." Jack pushes the potatoes around on his plate whilst glancing up – again like a normal person – at Gwen's table. "Who is she?"

"Katie Russell."

"And she knows you?"

"How'd you know?"

"Your body language changed, you're sitting at a twenty-three degree angle to your hips in order to get closer to that plant without being noticed, and you stopped eating like this was your last supper."

"Good point." Ianto digs voraciously into what remains of his meal. "And you are good," he mutters, hoping that the words will be thoroughly muffled by the bite he's chewing.

"Thanks!" Jack grins. Then, "Katie's getting up."

"What about Gwen?"

"She's... staying put."

"Good. You follow Katie. But stay out of sight!"

"I told you, I know how to do this."

There's a flirtatious excitement in Jack's voice that Ianto can't decide is delicious or intolerable. Either way, it's unbearable. Ianto gives Jack his best fake smile. "You just go prove that, then."

Jack gives him a sloppy, mock salute. "Yes sir. But don't let Gwen get away!"

Ianto glares after Jack as he slips away, but he's getting out his mobile and has speed-dialled Owen before the man is out of sight. "Owen!" he hisses.

"Yeah, what? Harkness give you the slip, did he?"

"Katie's here."

There's silence for a moment. "Where's 'here'?"

"Mermaid Brasserie." Ianto drops his volume even further. "And she's having lunch with Jack's ex-fiancée."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

"I'm going to try to get a picture of Cooper while Katie's gone off to the loo and send it to you, but I can only see the back of her—Ah! Come on, waiter, get her to turn... yes!" Ianto snaps a picture of her. "Sending you her picture... now."

"Oh, she's gorgeous! Way too good for Harkness!"

"I don't know about that." The words are out of Ianto's mouth before he can stop them.

"What, you jealous? I thought you were off blokes."

"Just look her up, will you? And I was never _on_ blokes!"

"Sixty-one Gwen Coopers in the UK.... Narrow it down to South... Wales... Let's see... Gwen Cooper, age sixteen, blonde... Gwen Cooper, age forty-two, deceased – not unless our man's into necrophilia – is he?"

"Owen!"

"Gwen Cooper, age twenty-eight, brown hair, brown eyes – oh, no fucking way!"

"Fat, is she?"

"Two hundred kilos."

Ianto shudders.

"Gwen Cooper, age thirty-two, brown hair, green eyes – yup, that's her! Sending you her file now. And, er, Ianto?"

Ianto always gets the bad kind of shivers when Owen says his name like that. "Yes?"

"Keep Harkness under control, yeah? That Mister Smith bloke isn't feeling very kindly towards him, at the moment."

"I thought you said he liked him."

"I lied. As you do, in this business."

"So if I don't keep him under control...?"

"Let's just say he'll be a man without a country."

"I've got to go," says Ianto through his shudder, "Katie's coming back."

"Don't say hi for me."

Ianto ends the call, perusing the menu to hide from Katie.

Jack is nowhere in sight.

After Owen's words, this does not ease Ianto's mind. He can't look around at the table he needs to cover, can't call attention to Jack by looking for him. If the waiter comes by, he can ask if—

"Hey, kid. You miss me?" Jack has slipped into his seat silently and is looking at Ianto with the most annoyingly smug smile Ianto has ever seen.

"No," Ianto lies. "But you are good." _Damn you...._

*****

Jack gazes up at the board, looking at the departures and listening to the conversation one hundred feet away from him. Ianto is pressed close, as though he's trying to hear that conversation through Jack's ears. They probably look like lovers to the outside world – not a bad cover, if it weren't so dangerous. He shrugs and turns into Ianto, murmuring into a surprisingly shell-like ear, "They're asking about tickets to Clan Roost."

"What the fuck is Clan Roost?"

Jack, noting that Ianto didn't back away, almost-nuzzles Ianto's cheek and breathes into that same ear, "The ticket guy says the next train leaves in two hours and it'll take ten hours and five changes to get there."

Ianto shivers, though Jack isn't entirely sure it's because of the cool breeze that just skittered past them. "Sounds pretty remote..."

Jack slips an arm around Ianto, changing sides so he can adjust his listening device. It feels good sliding his face over Ianto's in order to say, "He says if they wait 'til tomorrow, they can get one that'll get them there in four hours and twenty-two minutes with one change."

"Oh."

Jack catches sight of a family nearby. The teenage girl is staring at them, eyes wide and – hopeful? He strokes Ianto's back. "He says Snowdon's beautiful this time of year."

Ianto shivers again and leans in, hot breath gusting against Jack's ear. "Someone's watching us, aren't they?"

"Oh, yeah." Jack glances at the girl and kisses Ianto's skin just below the temporomandibular joint.

"Wherever Clan Roost is, we're going by way of Newport," murmurs Ianto directly into Jack's ear.

Jack shivers. "Fine by me. And we're still being watched."

Ianto slowly nuzzles the skin stretched over Jack's cheek and kisses the most erogenous zone Jack has on his face. And then he bites that same spot, which makes Jack jump, in more ways than one. "That's Hhhhlan Roost."

The sound and feel of Ianto hissing that funny 'L' sound against his cheek makes Jack very hard, and he holds Ianto close just to hide himself from the view of the girl whose face is beaming at them. "Whatever it is," he murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady, "they're going to drive to it." He doesn't tell Ianto that the girl watching them has been dragged away bodily by her mother, who is admonishing her against being a peeping Tom.

Ianto shifts, revealing a hint that he might be in a similar condition to Jack, though at this point, anything brushing near Jack's dick would constitute an invitation. Ianto's hand creeps up Jack's back. "So we should follow them, then." His voice is liquid sex against Jack's starved skin.

"Yeah." It's barely a breath, and Jack's knees are beginning to weaken. If he were seventeen instead of forty-two, he'd come in his pants.

Ianto pulls back, lips trailing slowly against Jack's face until they are standing lip-to-lip. "Are we still being watched?"

"Oh, God," says Jack, his voice almost a squeak at forming words using Ianto's lips. "Um, not on this end..."

"Time to go, then." Ianto's tongue flicks against Jack's lip on the last word, sending Jack to the edge of the whiteout place.

And then there's nothing. Ianto is out of Jack's arms and walking away at about ninety miles an hour, and Jack is paralysed in front of the train departure board.

When he can move, he makes his way to the parking lot – car park, as they call it here, which makes him think of an amusement park featuring cars, which would be a great idea if it meant test-driving race cars – and finds Ianto in the driver's seat, ending a call on his cell.

Ianto turns and smiles at him in a way that Jack doesn't like. "Good news first: this car's just turned into a business expense, so you don't have to pay for it."

"And the bad news?" Jack is still half-hard, but he thinks he can make it go away.

"Your fiancée might be about to become more deeply involved in an international crime ring than we thought."

Jack gets harder, even as his gut clenches a bit. "Oh?"

"And you're going to need new clothes."

"Oh!"

"Not the kind you normally seem to go for. We need you to blend in."

"I already blend in just fine."

"You're good at stalking, but you don't blend in. You're quite ha—you tend to stand out."

"Oh." There's an odd glow spreading through Jack.

Ianto starts the car. "I really hate driving."

"You could let me do it, you know. I'm very good."

"Wrong side of the road for you, it's going to be dark soon, and the roads here are not what you're used to. Besides, you don't know the traffic laws."

"But—"

"Maybe tomorrow, if we get a good night's sleep. For now, you just keep your eyes on their car. And tell me if I'm about to hit a sheep."

"A sheep?"

"You'll see what I mean."

Jack shrugs. "Okay. But you really should let me drive."

Ianto rolls his head and follows Katie out of the parking – car park.

Jack watches the women talking and laughing with each other until they pull far enough away that they can follow with minimal chance of suspicion. "So. Wanna fill me in about this case my fiancée and I are getting involved with?"

"Only if you promise not to let the subjects out of your sight whilst we're in the traffic jams coming up."

"Wow, you're in a good mood!"

Silence.

"Ianto?"

Ianto takes a deep breath and unclenches his fingers around the steering wheel. "Right. Six weeks ago, seven of the world's biggest banks were hacked and the personal information of half a billion customers stolen."

Jack turns and stares at Ianto. "Half a billion? With a 'B'?"

"Eyes on the subjects, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jack turns eyes-front again.

"Yes, that's billion with a 'B'."

"Why the hell hasn't this hit the news? Why wasn't the NSA informed?"

"Hello, economic meltdown? If you think what we just went through was bad, what do you think would happen if the world found out that its biggest financial institutions could have all that information stolen in a matter of seconds?"

"Seconds?"

"If it weren't for one very alert IT person at RBE working very late at night and noticing a funny blip on her screen, we wouldn't have known anything about this until people started finding out that their accounts had dried up and their credit ratings had plummeted. Of course, she was arrested on suspicion as soon as she rang Scotland Yard, but Owen managed to squirrel her away in a safe house and put her to work." Ianto sighs as they stop dead in a traffic jam on the A470. "I hate Cardiff rush hour."

"So what did he put her to work doing?"

"She created a way of securing the customers' true identities without leaving any evidence of the fix for the hackers to see. So now when they hack in, they think nothing's changed."

"But if the purpose is embezzlement, won't they find out when the money doesn't transfer to whatever account they've set up?"

"Owen managed to convince the banks involved to seed the accounts with money in case the hackers try anything like that."

Jack whistles. "Bet they're calling him up every day, wanting to know when the case will be finished."

"Something like that. Basically, the whole of MI5's reputation is at stake, as is the Prime Minister's job and the British economy."

"The world economy, you mean." Jack peers around and through the cars in front of them as a few cars squeeze onto and turn off of the road. He can still see Katie's car, but it's getting further ahead. "Katie's seven cars ahead, now."

"Good. Less chance of us being spotted."

"Yup." Jack smiles. "So this computer genius... what's at stake for her?"

"Let's just say she has to stay in hiding until all this blows over. She's listed as a fugitive, which means that if she's caught, she could be held in less than ideal circumstances."

"Just for blowing the whistle?"

"The official story is that she is the prime suspect in the case, and that needs to remain the case until MI5 can capture all those involved in the ring."

"Life as a decoy is lousy!"

"Which is why Owen is the only one in the world who knows where she is."

"So what's her name?"

"I can't say."

"Not even to your partner?"

"Not even to my p-partner." The stutter is microscopic, but it hits Jack right between the eyes.

And dammit, he can't let this Jones guy keep getting to him like this! "So how does Katie fit in to all of this? And how the hell did Gwen get involved with her?"

"Katie has an on-again, off-again with the man we're pretty sure is the head of the ring. We're not sure how much she knows about the ring, but she's our best chance of getting near it."

"What's the guy's name? And Katie's eight cars ahead, now."

"Thanks. His name's Kevin Smith – no, not the actor. At least, that's the name we know him by. And we don't have any clear photos of him, no driver's licence, no records of any kind other than a holding company in Katie's name that sort of traces back to him. Whoever he is, he's bloody good at covering his tracks." Ianto's voice has gone very bitter.

"You make it sound personal," Jack offers.

"Yeah. Can't think about that, right now." Ianto's hands have gone white on the steering wheel, his face clenched.

Jack knows that look. He's seen it on so many faces since he first got involved in the military, and even more in field intelligence ops. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Jack takes a risk and squeezes Ianto's shoulder, running his hand slowly down Ianto's arm until those white knuckles loosen and become pink again. "And Gwen?" he reminds.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. She has no prior history of any criminal activity, at all. But the man she's just become involved with?"

"Rhys Williams." Jack's teeth don't quite clench.

Ianto nods. "Owen did some digging and found out his haulage business has an account with Smith's holding company."

Jack nods, slowly. "Can we kill him?"

Ianto barks out a laugh and spares a look for Jack, who keeps his eyes firmly on Katie's car. "Not unless it becomes necessary for the case."

"Just checking." Jack feels the corners of his mouth twitching. Despite his very real desire to do away with Rhys Williams for personal reasons, it's good to hear Ianto lighten up a little. Even if it is _just_ a little. And then he realises that he still has Ianto's arm, so he squeezes it and lets go. "So did Owen find out anything about how Gwen and Katie hooked up?"

"In what sense do you mean 'hooked up'?"

"Um, met, of course. What did you ... oh. Oh! You mean, you think... oh, no! But that would be—"

"Incredibly sexy to watch, yeah?"

"Watch, hell! I'd get right in there with them!"

"Me, too, if I didn't think you'd kill me."

Jack blinks and looks briefly at Ianto.

"Eyes front, Jack."

Jack smiles and complies. The images Ianto's given him might prove useful distractions during awkward silences.

*****

"I think they're onto us," says Jack, as they make their tenth turn in what seems like inches of road.

"Fucking Brecon!" Ianto follows Katie's car as it turns yet again. "Why'd they have to take the bloody scenic route?"

Jack isn't a nervous passenger on the ground, but he winces as Ianto takes an impossibly tight turn that puts him within kissing distance of a stone wall. And then he gets really nervous when a car hurtles toward them at breakneck speed, slowing down just enough at the last minute to slip by them.

"Told you you wouldn't be used to these roads."

"These aren't roads, they're driveways!"

"Try driving in Japan," Ianto mutters. All of a sudden, he turns left when Katie goes straight. "You might want to find something to hang on to."

"Wha—whoa!" Jack clutches at the dash, though there isn't anything to clutch. He misses a good, old-fashioned sissy grip as Ianto tears through the streets of this Welsh town that's clearly small but seems to have no end. "Jesus! Where'd you learn to drive? James Bond school?"

"Yeah. Only you're not supposed to use it in towns like this." Ianto pelts past a sign that says 30. The speedometer reads 45.

Jack shuts his eyes as it becomes clear that Ianto is going to shear the left side of the car off – and Jack with it – against the jutting corner of a building that is undoubtedly hundreds of years old. He hears it whooshing closer and begins to think about reconnecting with God. And just as he's remembering the words to the Lord's Prayer, sort of, he feels the pressure change, blocking his ears instantly and causing him to wince even more as the car seems to become airborne on his side.

"Perhaps I should mention that I got an A-star in James Bond school."

"Is that like an A-plus?"

"Yup."

Jack ventures a glance through protective fingers that he doesn't remember plastering to his face. The road ahead is clear for a few yards, the car is still in one piece and he is still in it beside a very concentrated Ianto.

"Hang on...." Ianto swings wildly into a right turn and almost instantly into a left, giving Jack that flying feeling again.

"Whaa... Whoa...! Where are you going?"

"I'm getting in front of them."

"How far in front?!"

"As far as I can." Ianto's 'Now shut up before we all die!' is loud and clear in its silence.

And just as Jack starts to think about relaxing, Ianto makes another hair-raising turn, making Jack breathe like they do in those comedy bits about natural childbirth classes. He glances to his right to see a grim-faced Ianto making his way pell-mell through these impossible streets like it's the last thing in the world he wants to do. And then he realises that Ianto is terrified. He's driven with speed demons before. Hell, he is a speed demon. And speed demons don't look like this. They don't look flushed and ashen at the same time when they're doing what they love. Nobody does.

Jack calms himself. He's on the job. He's in a car being driven too fast – what's not to love? The guy driving said car is handsome and smells nice and gorgeous and funny and he's even kinda sweet, especially when he's threatening to beat Jack up. Make that _promising_ to beat Jack up. And Jack could swear he had a dream the last time he slept – was that last night? – about kissing Ianto. Or was it Gwen?

It doesn't matter. He's on the job, helping Ianto with a tough case with high stakes and maybe saving Gwen from a life of crime. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, of course. She's extremely good at martial arts and can almost take him at target practice. Almost. Nobody's as good at shooting as he is.

And nobody's as good at driving as he is, except perhaps for Ianto. Ianto, who looks both like he hasn't been eating or sleeping all that well for longer than he's admitted to Jack, and as though he's nearing the end of his capacity to drive at breakneck speed through a town that he clearly knows like the back of his hand.

At long last, Ianto turns left onto a road that they stay on for more than thirty seconds. And even more welcome, they are suddenly out of Brecon and in the countryside. Jack notes that they're on something called the B4520, and it's beautiful. He glances into his side mirror and sees a red Fiat way behind them. "Hey, Ianto," he says, gently, "you did it."

"They're behind us?"

"Yeah." Jack reaches over to squeeze Ianto's shoulder again, this time using the stretch of his fingers to rub at the tense knot below his neck. "Brilliant driving, by the way."

"Told you I got high marks." Ianto's face begins to relax the smallest bit.

Jack rubs strategically for a few moments before resting his hand on the area he's made warm. "For a guy who hates to drive, you do it really well."

"It's – complicated."

"You'll tell me about it someday. And maybe you'll also tell me how you know Brecon so well."

Ianto tenses under Jack's hand, all but throwing it off.

Jack rubs soothingly. "Sorry. It's okay, you don't have to. None of my business, anyway."

Ianto starts to relax again. "If you give therapeutic massages, we might work out a trade."

"Oh, you're on. You are so on! I'm famous for my massages!"

"And I'm famous for being stingy with my trades."

Jack grins at him. "Why, Ianto Jones! I've always loved a challenge...."

*****

Almost three hours later, Ianto is seriously beginning to flag. He's not admitting it, but Jack can see it. It's dark, the road they're on is tiny, as best as Jack can tell there are mountains in the general vicinity and Ianto's been mumbling about Snowdonia and how beautiful it is in the daytime, but Jack has been concentrating on the Fiat which until about a minute ago, he had clearly in his sights. Now, it seems to be gone.

"We've lost them, haven't we?" Ianto sounds forlorn.

"Yeah." Jack won't admit it, but he's beginning to be afraid. They're out in the middle of nowhere, his native guide and driver is looking like he needs a nap and maybe a meal, and they're both in need of a stretch, which he doesn't want to have here. "How far is it to – that place we're going?"

"Tlhlan Roost. Not much farther. Look, take my mobile, yeah?"

"You're not going to die, yet!"

"I'm not giving it to you, you prat! I'm driving, and I'm not allowed to use it, so you have to!"

"Okay...." Jack waits expectantly for Ianto to give him the phone.

"You'll have to get it out of my pocket. Can't even pick up a mobile whilst you're driving in the UK."

"Okay, where is it?"

"Inside breast pocket of my suit coat."

"Your suit – oh! Your jacket! You seriously want me to reach for it in there?"

"Just do it, or we'll pretend Newport's right here in Snowdonia."

"Okay, okay! Jeez, you can drive at fifty miles an hour in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone, but you can't even touch your cell phone?" Jack takes Ianto's jacket lapel gingerly in one hand and pulls, only to find it trapped by Ianto's seatbelt. He sighs and does what he has to as quickly and clinically as possible. It doesn't stop him from feeling a surprisingly healthy pectoral muscle along the way.

"Man's got to have his standards." Ianto's voice is warmer than Jack had expected it to be.

Jack almost drops the phone. Fortunately, something he did while catching at it opens it up. "Okay, now what?"

"You're going to call a hotel I know and book us rooms."

"Aha! I like the way you think!"

Ianto grunts something and gives him the number to enter. "Don't mention my name unless they tell you the place is full."

Jack eyes Ianto, but makes the call.

"Good evening, Meadowsweet Inn, how may I help?" The voice is female and motherly.

"Hi, my name's Jack Harkness. My partner and I are stranded in this area, and we were wondering if you had a couple of rooms for the night?"

"We only have the one room available, I'm afraid, but it's got a lovely bed."

"Can you give us a cot, too?"

"Oh, my! Oh, of course we can. Oh, the poor little thing! When do you think you'll be arriving?"

"When will we be arriving?" he murmurs to Ianto.

"I dunno... fifteen, twenty minutes, perhaps?"

"Fifteen or twenty minutes?"

"That's no problem at all. Could I have a credit card number to secure the room?"

"Yeah, but we'll probably put it on my partner's card when we get there."

"That'll be all right, Mr. Harkness. I just have to take something down in case someone else rings looking for a room."

Jack gives her the necessary information and ends the call. "You going to be okay to drive the rest of the way?" For once, he actually wants Ianto to say yes.

"Should be. Been here enough."

"Oh? I'd have thought you were a city boy, born and bred."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Just something in the way you said it...."

"Sound can be deceiving."

Jack sits back and wills the trip to be over.

Twenty minutes later, they are pulling into a car park next to a yellow building with "Meadowsweet Inn" proclaimed on at least two of its four walls. Ianto's relief is almost palpable as he switches off the ignition.

"Thanks for getting us here."

Ianto looks at Jack and smiles. "You're welcome."

Jack is so taken with Ianto's gaze that he almost fails to notice the red Fiat parked three spaces over from them. "Oh, yes!" he hisses.

Ianto gives him a confused look.

Jack leans in and points out Ianto's side window.

Ianto turns back, practically grinning, and then they're hugging and thumping each other on the back without so much as an awkward moment between them.

"So," says Jack, pulling away, "whaddya say we check in, get something to eat and get some serious sleep?"

"Sounds good to me. Although it'll be interesting to see who gets the cot."

Jack claps Ianto on the shoulder. "I'll take it. You did all the driving." He clambers out of the car.

"Good point," says Ianto, stretching as he stands.

"Shit! I don't have my suitcase!"

"Neither do I." Ianto pulls a briefcase from the back seat.

"You cheated!"

"No, I'm just always prepared."

"Let me guess... Boyscout?"

"Something like that."

 


	3. Chapter 3

The inn is homey. It's what Jack would have expected from the tourist brochures he'd been shown of English inns and B&amp;Bs, and it is only the unmistakable accent he hears as they walk in that reminds him that he is very firmly in Wales. "Good evening, sir. How can I help?"

Jack finishes noting that Gwen and Katie are nowhere in sight and walks up to a woman in her forties who looks as though she could have been Gwen's older sister or possibly Ianto's aunt. "Well, hello! I'm Jack Harkness. I called a little while ago about a room?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Harkness. You'd mentioned your partner?"

Jack motions to Ianto, who seems studiously engaged in a rubber plant near the door. So studiously that Jack can only see his left hand twitching from behind it. "Excuse me for just a minute. He's a bit shy, sometimes."

"Of course." The woman smiles indulgently.

Jack strolls in the direction of the door until the woman politely turns her eyes to a piece of paper in front of her, and then he strides toward the plant and finds Ianto looking intently at a leaf. "What is with you?"

"I told you not to mention my name unless they said it was full," Ianto hisses back.

"And I didn't! So what's the big deal?"

"I can't...."

"Ianto?"

Jack turns around to find a younger woman who, though on the plump side, bears a resemblance to Ianto. He turns back to Ianto. Make that a striking resemblance.

Ianto sighs and steps out of the plant. "Hello, Rhi."

"I thought that was you! You always did hide in there when you were trying to hide from Auntie Bethan."

Jack follows Ianto's gaze as it travels to the reception desk.

The woman on the other side is waving at Ianto with a knowing smile on her face.

"Hi, Auntie Bethan." Ianto's smile is resigned and forlorn.

And then it's wiped off his face as Rhi punches him squarely in the jaw, knocking him on his ass.

Jack jumps out of the way and just looks from one to the other, unsure of whom to guard.

"Reckoned you'd rather get it from me than from him." Rhi jerks her head at a muscly blonde guy who looks like he might be a bit disappointed that she stepped in. "Best...stay down," she says as Ianto starts to pick himself up.

Jack looks at all three of them and then offers a hand to Ianto and pulls him up. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Jack Harkness, my sister, Rhiannon Davies. And that's Johnny Davies."

"Pleased to meet you." Jack shakes Rhiannon's hand and offers one to Johnny.

"And just who the hell are you?"

"I'm his partner."

Rhiannon gapes. "No!"

"Have you gone bender?" Johnny demands.

"He's my business partner." Ianto glances around. "We're working on a case," he says, voice low and serious.

"You're—"

Rhiannon shoves her hand over Johnny's mouth. "Shush!" she hisses. Then she turns to Ianto and keeps hissing. "The last time you said you were on a case, you nearly lost this place in a wager!"

Jack keeps all three of them under surveillance to keep from looking as blank as he feels.

"That's because I _was_ on a case, and that was the role I was assigned!"

"And then you and hatchet-face nearly got Johnny nicked in front of David on the rugby pitch!" She turns to Jack and smiles. "David's our son," she croons.

Jack mouths, 'Ah!' He knows who 'hatchet-face' is.

Ianto glares at Johnny. "That wouldn't have happened if you'd stayed home like I told you!"

"And miss—" Johnny stifles himself as Rhiannon threatens to cover his mouth again. "And miss the quarter-finals? No way! Not then, not now, not ever!"

"Yes, and you knew things were going to happen that day, so it was your fucking choice!"

Jack finally turns to Ianto and notices the flushed face and murderous glare. He puts a hand on Ianto's arm and re-evaluates his chances in Newport. "Sounds like an old argument, guys. Wanna have dinner with us?"

"What, in our hotel?"

"Inn," says Johnny.

"Whatever! Ianto, you and your _gorgeous_ partner are having supper with us!"

"Erm, I don't know if we should," says Ianto.

"Oh, what is it now?" Rhiannon turns to Jack. "I don't know how you stand him, he fusses so much!"

"Hey, he got me through Heathrow and drove here from Cardiff without beating me up, yet. Can't complain too much." He feels three pairs of eyes on him and realises that he's got an arm around Ianto and is stroking a padded shoulder absently. He looks at Ianto and shrugs, leaving his hand where it is.

Ianto looks at Jack for a flustered second before turning to Rhiannon. "The women we're following – their car's outside. And, er, they'd recognise us. Can you see if they're in the dining room?"

Rhiannon's eyes light up. "You're letting me help?"

Ianto rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, but just this once!"

"You hear that? He's letting me help!"

Johnny shakes his head.

"What do they look like?"

"Petite blonde with blue eyes, and a curvy brunette with – what colour are her eyes?"

"Green. Like you could fall right into this huge, grey-green sea at twilight."

Rhiannon gapes and gasps. "You're in love with her!"

Ianto's arm goes around Jack's waist in a warning. "They were lovers long ago. He never got over her."

"And she hates me, now." Jack winces at the truth in it.

Ianto rubs Jack's back and draws him a little closer. "She's got a gap between her front teeth, as well."

"Cutest thing in the whole world." Jack hadn't known he could sound that mournful.

Johnny looks at them and shakes his head some more. "You two are doing bad things to my head." He stalks over to the desk and starts talking with Auntie Bethan.

"Right. You two check in – wait... The only room left is the Four-Poster. Are you posing as _partners_?"

"Hadn't thought about it," lies Jack.

"Yes," says Ianto.

"What?!"

"Trust me, it'll come in handy." Ianto winks at Rhiannon.

Rhiannon grins and runs a finger down her nose. "I'll just go see if those two girls are here. And don't worry, I won't tell them a thing about either of you!"

Ianto grabs Rhiannon as she starts to leave and hugs her. "Nice to see you, Rhi."

Rhiannon blinks as she returns his embrace a bit cautiously. "You, too, Ianto." She lets go, swiping at her nose as she leaves.

"Why are we posing as, uh...."

"Lovers? Didn't think you'd be shy about that sort of thing."

"That's my fiancée in there!"

"Exactly! What better way to get her back than to make her jealous?"

"Are you kidding? Women never fight for their guys if they go off with another guy!"

Ianto blinks at him.

"You know what I mean! If a guy dumps a girl for another guy, the girl just lets him go 'cause he's gay and she doesn't stand a chance. It's not even competition!"

"They should probably give you some windows at work." Ianto steers Jack towards the desk. "Just trust me, it'll work! Besides, it'll be fun to wind Auntie Bethan up."

Rhiannon meets them just before they reach it, and yanks them away. "Be right there, Auntie Bethan!"

She pulls Jack down a corridor and Ianto follows. "They're having supper in the dining room, but they're not staying. Yours mentioned something about how long Rhys is taking to get here."

Jack stiffens. "He's coming here?"

"Yeah. Sorry, luv." She strokes Jack's arm and looks at Ianto. "Do you need to hide for a bit? Sort out your room, splash some water on your face, perhaps? You still have some clothes here from before. I didn't see any bags, apart from your briefcase."

"Yeah, we weren't expecting to come up here. Got caught out." Ianto wipes a hand over his face. "And a change of clothes would be nice." He looks at Jack. "I might have something that fits you. I was fatter last time I was here."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, leave it, Harkness!" Rhiannon squeezes Ianto's arm as though she's planning to buy him at an auction. "You were never fat! You're bloody gaunt, now. How much weight did you lose?"

"Dunno. A stone, maybe."

Rhiannon sticks her hand in Ianto's waistband and pulls. "You've lost six, maybe seven inches off your waist since you bought this suit. It's falling off you!"

"It's a long story, Rhi, but I promise you, I'm not starving myself. Not deliberately, anyway."

"He stuffed himself at lunch," offers Jack.

"That's bulimia. I knew it!"

Ianto pulls away from both of them. "It's not bulimia! It's ... look, I was ... It's ... none of your business."

"Maybe you should just get us to the room." Jack looks at Ianto. "You can put your feet up and I can check out the cot."

Rhiannon frowns, but leads them further down the corridor. "Why would you need a cot?"

Jack frowns in turn, wondering why an extra bed is such a big deal.

Ianto isn't offering any explanations. In fact, Ianto seems to be off in his own world, which makes Jack feel cut loose.

Rhiannon stops at a door and opens it with a master key. "Here's the Four Poster room. I'll be right back with some clothes. No need to check in, Ianto."

"Oh, no, Rhi, this is business. MI5 will pay. Just... let's keep it off the books, this time. This case is complicated that way."

Rhiannon gives Ianto a worried glance. "Should I bring you some supper up here, luv? You look tired."

"No, that's—"

"That's a great idea! Seriously, Ianto, it means we could stay out of the way and Rhiannon here could just happen to overhear them as she walked by, right?"

"You are not getting my sister involved in this case!"

"Oh, I'd really love to help, Ianto, you know I would." Rhiannon's eyes are alight. "And I have an excellent memory for what people say...."

"That's true, but—"

"See? She wants to help!"

"It's too dangerous, Jack!"

"Oh, go on, Ianto," Rhiannon wheedles.

"Where are they sitting?"

"Table three."

"Shit!" Ianto runs his hand down the back of his head and digs his fingers in.

"What's wrong with table three?" asks Jack.

"It's right in the middle of the fucking room." Ianto starts scratching aggressively at his head.

Rhiannon pushes him through the door, nodding at Jack. "Yeah, there's no hiding from table three. So that means you have to let me help!"

They're inside the door, now, and Ianto sets his briefcase down. "All right, but if anyone else joins them, you get out of there straight away and come find us, all right?"

"He's letting me help. That's twice in one day!" Rhiannon beams at Jack. "You'll have to work with him more often!"

Jack grins and gives a mock salute. "Glad I could help out, Ma'am!"

"Ooh, Ianto! Too bad you're only pretending to be partners, isn't it?" Rhiannon winks and escapes before Ianto can say anything.

Jack chuckles.

The room is almost the sort of romantic getaway place that he and Gwen had always scoffed at whenever they were fantasising about that sort of thing. It has a bay window, only instead of a built-in bench, there are two small chairs begging to be sat in and a little, round table on graceful legs. There is moulding joining ceiling to walls, but it's in keeping with the building and painted the same shade of white/cream as the rest of the room. The night tables look like the ones his mother had, only genuine. They are dark wood, clean and well-kept, but not fussy. In fact, everything about the room is understated and tasteful except for the bed.

There are tassels. Huge tassels. They tie back the acres of fabric that looks like the wallpaper that should only be in a gigantic cottage owned by Marie Antoinette. Granted, this particular version of it has a class and delicacy that makes it attractive, but ... tassels! Jack goes up close to check them out and finds that yes, they are as big as his face. But at least they're burgundy. They are also clean, and they feel kind of nice against his face.

Maybe he can get used to the bed. Pity he's already volunteered to sleep in the cot, a fact of which Ianto reminds him by flumping down onto the impossibly thick layers of cloth on the bed.

"Stop nuzzling the tassel, Jack. You don't know where it's been."

Jack sniffs it. "Most recently at the cleaners, I'd guess."

"Probably. Auntie Bethan is pretty fussy about cleanliness."

"Mmm..." Jack looks around. "Cute crib. Uh... when are they going to bring up the cot?"

"They already have."

"They—" Jack looks back at the crib and replays the phone conversation in his head, as well as Rhiannon's confusion.

"'Cot' does not mean the same thing here as it does in America."

"Why didn't you tell me that when I made the reservation?"

"Too busy driving."

"I can't sleep in that!"

"Just hang your legs out over the end."

"Oh, ha, ha! Very funny!"

"Or you could curl yourself up in a foetal position. Might have to push a side down..."

"Oh, yeah, right! So what's the word for what I'm looking for here, and do they have any?"

"Camp bed. And no, they don't. They were stretching it giving you the cot. The maximum occupancy allowed for this room is two."

Jack looks at Ianto in disbelief, only to find a smug smirk on the man's face. He shoves his hands onto his hips and attacks the cot as an engineering problem. "I'll break it if I sleep in it..."

Ianto's empty shoes thump to the floor, one by one. "Oh, I don't know. It was pretty sturdy when Rhi and I played forts in it."

"But if I take the mattress out and put it on the floor.... Wait... this was yours?"

"Yeah, for a few years." There's a smile on Ianto's face as he leans back against the headboard.

"So how big were you guys when you last played fort in it?"

"Not as big or as whiny as you."

"I am not—"

"Just belt up and share the bed, Jack. Unless you thrash around and kill people in your sleep, of course. In that case, you can sleep in the lounge."

Jack's eyes widen.

"Have you really never had to share a bed with a man before?"

"No!"

It's Ianto's turn to stare.

Jack shakes his head. "I mean, yeah, but..."

"What?" Ianto's eyes widen further. "You didn't think I was—"

"NO! God, no! It's just... Well, I, um, I've... neversleptwithaguywithouthavingsex."

"Ah! Well, first time for everything."

Jack is trying to figure out why there's disappointment mixed with his relief when Rhiannon pokes her head around the door.

"Well at least you have your feet up," she says, eyeing Ianto. She deposits a thick pile of clothes on the unoccupied side of the bed. "Here are some of your old clothes. I also cadged a few things off Johnny that might work for you, Mr. Harkness."

"Jack. Please."

Her eyes warm. "What would you like for supper?"

"Uhm...."

"Everything's good here."

"Thanks, Ianto." Rhiannon smiles.

"Didn't think I'd noticed, did you?"

Rhiannon snorts. "The way you scoff it down? Of course you noticed! I just never thought you'd say."

Jack shakes his head. "I'm still kind of full from lunch. Maybe just some fruit?"

"Cheese for me." Ianto yawns.

"Fruit and cheese for two, and your favourite whisky, then."

Ianto perks up at that. "Oh, yeah."

The growl in Ianto's voice goes straight to Jack's groin. Sharing the bed is going to be—

"Right. Back in a bit! After I do some listening, of course." Rhiannon winks at them.

"Be careful, Rhi."

Rhiannon rolls her eyes, which makes Jack stifle a laugh. "It's my restaurant, Ianto. It'd be suspicious if I _weren't_ there!"

"Yeah..."

Rhiannon sighs and walks to the door. "Got any drugs you could use on him?" she tosses at Jack.

"That's classified!"

Ianto snorts and heads to the bathroom as Rhiannon leaves.

Jack pokes through the pile of clothes. There's a pair of grey sweats, a blue t-shirt, a greige jacket that's way too big and awful-looking ever to have belonged to Ianto, a soft, grey sweater that pings something in Jack as he thinks of Gwen wearing it, a pair of plaid pyjamas, a pair of blue pyjamas – he takes those because he doesn't _do_ plaid – a pair of jeans that probably is too big for Ianto right now – not that he's noticed, of course – and too small for him, though he doesn't care.

He's poking through a few more clothes when a letter falls out. It's in its envelope. It's been opened, most likely read, but not well-thumbed. And it's ten years old, according to the postmark.

He stares at it like an addict. He knows he shouldn't read it. He absolutely knows this. But Ianto is a mystery, and Jack's been in special ops for so long that he can't _not_ come up with about a million justifications for finding out more about the man he's stuck on a shadowy, absurd case with. And who's he kidding? He's always been a snoop.

There's water running in the bathroom. Or rather, there was water running. It's stopped. There are footsteps.

Jack squirrels the letter into the secret pocket inside his jacket just in time.

"Been going through the clothes, I see."

"Found some PJs and jeans." Jack holds them up.

"Those are mine."

"Not tonight, they're not!"

"Fair enough. They're yours for tonight. Tomorrow, the jeans are mine."

"Okay, but if they fall off you when you put them on, I'm taking them!"

"You're not that much bigger than I am. Except for your head."

"Oh, great! There's that Welsh sarcasm, again."

Before Jack knows what's happening, Ianto has him pinned by the collar to the wall. "You're a guest here. You're a guest in my home and my country. I'm Welsh. Your fiancée that you want back so much is Welsh. You're _in_ Wales. If you want to stay here, keep your fucking racism to yourself." Ianto is trembling, except for the iron hand threatening to restrict Jack's airflow. He leans in. "Because if you let Rhiannon or Bethan hear one word of it, I'll kill you myself." He drops Jack and stalks off to the bay window.

It stings. If there's one thing in his life that Jack has never been accused of, it's racism. His basic racial tolerance has both saved his life and enabled him to do what he does. He waits a beat to calm himself and observe Ianto, who looks like he's trying to do the same. If Jack's any judge of character, and he is, then Ianto is both expecting and dreading a response. Any response.

"You're right, Ianto. I'm sorry." Jack doesn't fully believe this, especially after everything Gwen would say about Welsh ways, but he's pretty sure that he should.

Ianto is silent.

And then Jack recognises that Ianto is holding himself the way a man does when he needs a new life. "And I absolutely promise that I won't expose your family to any of that."

Ianto almost breathes.

"And you don't have to promise not to kill me."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Jack feels the corners of his mouth twitch. "You won't what? Kill me or promise not to?"

"Promise not to." There's a smile in Ianto's voice, but even from behind and with no face available to see, he looks like he's still on the edge.

"Look, if you need some time to yourself, I can go find another safe place where I won't ruin your case."

Ianto sighs. "It's tempting."

Jack absorbs the additional, unexpected sting of it.

"But no. It's best you stay where I can keep an eye on you."

Jack crosses to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me we were coming to your childhood home?"

"Would you tell a psychotic stranger you were forced to work with that the place your case was leading you both was your home?"

"Okay," says Jack, softly, "you're entitled to that." He turns away.

"Jack."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

This time, Jack puts an arm around Ianto's shoulders and ruffles the back of his head. "It's okay. Wanna tell me when you had your last full meal before lunch today?"

Ianto tenses. "Maybe tomorrow when I can remember or make up something good."

Jack laughs and squeezes Ianto to him. "Long day, huh?"

"Yup." Ianto turns and looks at Jack. "For both of us, I think."

Meeting eyes is part of Jack's job. It's a form of intimacy he wishes weren't required for it, and he must always make sure that he gathers more than he gives. Looking unguarded into someone's eyes is more intimate even than a kiss, and kissing is much more intimate for him than sex. Usually.

Ianto's eyes are some form of blue, but Jack has yet to be able to see what form. Right now, they remind him of a California sky, but the light in the room is deceptive. Mostly, though, he is trying not to focus on how open those eyes are to him. Ianto's at least mostly straight, and he, Jack, is in a straight phase. A resolutely Gwen phase. Gwen, with her huge, gorgeous, green eyes that lay her every mood and thought bare. Gwen, with her fantastic legs and the cutest freckles anyone's ever seen. Gwen, with her incredibly sexy voice and gorgeous, Welsh vowels suffusing his skin as they lie wrapped in each other's arms. So why is he, resolutely _Gwen_ Jack, falling into blue eyes set deep into a distinctly masculine, non-Gwen face?

He realises just how close he is to Ianto's six-foot, non-curvy frame when there's a knock on the door. He and Ianto both spring into reality and away from each other. Ianto lets Rhiannon in.

She puts the tray unceremoniously on the bed and yanks one of the small chairs from the window. She occupies it, but Jack can't call it sitting because she's quivering too much. "Right. So I was resetting two tables near them—"

"You were careful, right? You didn't rouse suspicion?"

"We're busy, Ianto! It's a full night for us and there are loads of people waiting for a table."

Jack pats Ianto's shoulder. Hard. "So what did you hear?" He can feel Ianto's glare, even though the man doesn't move a muscle.

"First of all, they're not staying here. Your girl – Gwen, right?"

"Yeah."

"She's waiting for this Rhys to pick her up, and the other one, Katie, is it?"

"Yup."

"She's just keeping Gwen company for supper, and then she's off to meet someone called Kevin. She's awfully pretty to have a boyfriend named Kevin, isn't she?"

"Did she say where she was going?"

"Just that she was going to his house for a romantic reunion." She looks nervously at Ianto. "You're not involved with her, are you?"

"Nope. That'd be hatchet-face."

Rhiannon's eyes widen. "No! Him? But she's lovely!"

"That's probably why she left him."

"He's not that bad," says Ianto.

Jack bites the insides of his cheeks before he can manage, "How close are they to finishing dinner?"

"They just got their mains."

"That means they finished their appetisers," Ianto translates.

"Yes, I know what it means! I have seen Gordon Ramsay, you know."

"Ah." Ianto nods with a knowing look.

Jack folds his arms and thinks for a moment. "How close do they seem to be?"

Rhiannon shrugs. "The seem like new best friends, if you know what I mean. Like, they haven't known each other for long but they're meant to. I suppose it's a bit like falling in love, isn't it?"

Jack smiles. "Interesting way to put it. See if she writes anything down for Gwen before they leave."

Ianto and Rhiannon both give him quizzical looks.

"If they're that close, Katie's likely to invite Gwen and Rhys to visit them, and she'll have to write it down."

Rhiannon and Ianto cock their heads.

"Gwen's got a problem with aural memory for things like addresses and directions."

"Oh."

Jack shakes his head at the stereo. "And you two are creepy!"

"Has he just insulted us?"

"That'd be my guess."

"It's kind of cute in that accent, isn't it?"

"That's not how I would've described it."

"Guys! There's a conversation to listen in on!"

"And there's a conversation you'll have to have with Auntie Bethan before you leave."

Ianto winces. "She's not even my real aunt," he mutters.

Rhiannon gets up and cuffs him.

"Ouch!"

She turns to Jack. "I'll be back up when they've left. And make him take some of those classified drugs, will you? Do us all some good." She glares at Ianto for a second and then leaves.

As he turns to the tray of food, Jack catches Ianto in the corner of his eye and stops. "What's wrong?"

Ianto looks as though he should be frantically biting his nails, but he isn't. He's just standing there, his face shifting through moods and thoughts the way a sunset shifts through layers of atmosphere – motionless, yet never still. "Kevin Smith is dangerous," he says at last, and it sounds as if it cost him the better part of his soul.

"You mean, more than you'd expect the leader of the biggest bank fraud ring in the world to be..."

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me more about that?" _Like, because my life's at stake, here?_

"I...can't."

"Need to know?"

"Something like that."

"Dammit, Ianto, I'm your temporary partner! If I don't need to know, who does?"

"Rhiannon does!"

Jack jumps a bit at the explosion, and he finds himself rebalancing his weight for stability in defensive combat. "Then why didn't you tell her?"

"Because it would show on her face and in her body, and she'd be fucking spotted!"

"Okay," Jack soothes, "you're right. But maybe we should keep our voices down so nobody else overhears us. You with me?"

Stony silence.

"Let's turn on the TV. What's on in Welsh primetime?"

"Shit."

"What?" Jack scans the room.

"Shit is what's on the telly right now."

"Oh! And I thought British TV was supposed to be so much better than American." Jack gives Ianto his most annoying grin.

"That's because we only send you the stuff we think you lot can handle."

"Hey! Stereotyping, much?"

"Four, five more, and we'll be nearly even."

Jack finds the remote and turns on the TV. It's a bunch of talking heads, all male, talking about goals and tries. "Good. Now we can talk... Ianto? Earth to Ianto!" He waves his hand in front of a catatonic face.

"Haven't seen a match in weeks...."

"So much for arguing safely." Jack shakes his head and explores the bathroom.

The sight of the shower is just too tempting, so he uses it to soothe his tired muscles. It feels good enough that he encourages the stirring he feels in his cock and begins to stroke. He thinks of Gwen and her breasts, beautifully shaped with dark nipples and perfect in the imperfection of one suspended just a tiny bit lower than the other. He thinks of sucking on them, pillowing his face between them, rubbing his cock against her perfect swell of a belly as he teases her senses and tastes her skin. He groans, imagining the moment of sinking into her, _feeling_ her response as she arches to meet him and moans her pleasure, revelling in the feel of her nails alternately grazing and digging into his back.

And then he groans for an entirely different reason as his cock deflates. He looks at it, gazing and wondering at how bored it looks. How can a penis look bored? How can _his_ penis look bored, for god's sake? More to the point, how can he convince Ianto to give him a blowjob? _Should_ he—

Oh, yes, he should!

"_Fuck!_" He looks his cock right in the eye as it bobs back to life, all but winking at him. "No!"

Wait... he's shaking his finger at his dick? Since when has that done any good? Except when he's trying to make points with a prospect, that is. And even then – it's best not to think of 'even then'.

He sighs and jerks himself off as quickly and efficiently as he can, trying not to think of Ianto and his lithe, young, subtly muscled body and those pert little nubs that just showed under the shirt as the daylight streamed into the kitchen that morning, or that _very_ promising swell he's noticed more than – oh! – once on the plane and – ah! – again in Ianto's apartment. He also tries not to imagine how Ianto's cock would feel a – ah – ah! – against his own or how amazing it would be to – YES!

"Ow!"

His cock is retreating rapidly from his touch. Or, more accurately, from his mauling hand. Great! It's been weeks since he managed to have an orgasm, and now that he's had one, his penis is going to go hide in his spleen. On the good side, it means that Ianto is safe from molestation, and he still hasn't been unfaithful to Gwen. With another person. Physically.

He sighs and feels the emptiness take over. He's worried about Gwen, and he doesn't want to be alone. Besides, something's nagging at him about Ianto, and he can't control his urge to interrupt the sports show.

He dries off, throws the towel around himself and marches out of the bathroom only to run straight into Rhiannon.

"He's—oof! Oh, God, you're all wet!" She looks Jack up and down. "And bloody gorgeous!"

"You're married," Ianto states, checking his gun.

Jack takes in that fact as well as Rhiannon's anxious face. "What's going on here?"

"He's here," she says.

"Who's here?" Jack swallows. "Rhys Williams?"

"Him, too, yeah, but it's the other bloke, Kevin Smith!"

Jack notes Ianto's livid face and bolts for his clothes. "Stay right there!" He fetches them out of the bathroom. "And, uh, turn around?"

"No way!" – Rhiannon.  
And  
"No need." – Ianto.

Jack shrugs. "Suit yourselves." He turns his back to them and fumbles with his jeans. "So, Rhiannon, is there any way we can get down there and hide someplace so we can get a look at him?" He pulls on his jeans – he never wears dirty underwear – before dropping the towel.

"There's a back way to the kitchen. You could look through the door, if you like."

"Table three..." Ianto snaps his holster closed. "Who's facing the kitchen?"

"Katie. But it's well crowded in the dining room. They might not see you."

"More likely we won't see them." Jack turns around, buttoning his shirt. "That kitchen door window will set off whoever's up against it like a picture frame. I'll take this one, Ianto."

"Not by yourself, you won't."

"I'll be perfectly fine."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

"Gee, thanks!" And then Jack notices something behind Ianto's murderous look. He casts a glance at Rhiannon and sighs before invading Ianto's space. "Look," he says, putting both hands on Ianto's shoulders. He speaks quietly. "Whatever it is that's eating you about this Smith guy is interfering with your objectivity. You wanted my help on this case – or Owen did – so let me help." He squeezes Ianto's shoulders. "I can do this."

Ianto tenses for a long moment. And then he lets out a measured breath. "All right. But I'm still going with you." He lets the rest of it go. "As backup."

Jack rubs Ianto's shoulders for a second, thinking that the man really does need a good massage. "Wouldn't have it any other way. But, er, keep your weapon holstered unless Smith draws his, okay?"

"Okay."

Jack claps Ianto's arm and retrieves his own weapon from the night table drawer. "Let's go!"

"Ooh, this is exciting!"

"Rhi, you're staying well out of the way when we do this. And for God's sake, don't stand anywhere in front of Jack!"

Rhiannon rolls her eyes and stares pointedly at Jack whilst jerking her head at Ianto. "Drugs. I'm begging you."

Jack hangs back, a hand on Ianto's arm as Rhiannon steps through the door.

"What is it?"

"Easy, Ianto, I'm on your side, remember?"

"Vaguely."

Jack sighs. "Look, is there anything I need to know about this guy Smith?"

Ianto opens his mouth impatiently.

"That you haven't already told me."

"No."

This is another look that Jack's seen before, and he never likes to see it on a partner. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Jack's heart sinks even as his guard rises. "Okay." He looks Ianto in the eye. "Just remember, you've got my back."

Ianto blinks. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Come on, you two, I have to get back to work!"

Ianto searches Jack's eyes and looks as though he's about to say something.

"Come on!" Rhiannon yanks Ianto away from Jack, and they're off down the hall to the back of the inn.

Jack sighs and follows.

It's a lot harder doing surveillance through a kitchen door than Jack imagined. If he gets through this night with his nose and his dignity intact, he'll be doing very well. And Rhiannon wasn't kidding – the dining room is heaving, making it incredibly difficult to see the table in the middle.

He waits out the chaos until there's a lull, and Katie is eating her dessert. He can see Rhys's profile, but Smith is sitting askew, facing mostly away from the kitchen and towards Katie. He's sitting with practiced nonchalance, and he reminds Jack of someone in the way he moves. Only problem is, Jack can't think of who that someone is. "I need to hear him," he mutters.

"What's that?" Rhiannon all but shouts into his ear. "Sorry," she says when he winces.

Jack turns to say into her ear, "I need to hear him."

"Good luck, mate! How're you going to hear him when you don't want to be seen by that lot?"

"Get me a waiter's outfit. Let me serve a table nearby."

"Oh, I don't know about that...."

"Look, see that table over there?" Jack points to the booth behind Smith and Gwen.

"Table five, yeah."

"They're waiting for something, right?"

"Jenny!" Rhiannon motions to a blonde waitress who's just cleared another table's starter dishes. "Is there an order in for table five?"

"Yeah, they're waiting for..." she checks her pad, "cheese and biscuits and a sticky toffee pudding."

"Ifan! How long before table five's pudding's ready?"

"Five minutes!"

"Thanks!" Rhiannon pulls Jack away from the door. "Gareth!"

A well-built young man turns from where he's picking up two plates full of food.

"Where's your spare kit?"

"In the wash." He turns with his plates toward the door.

"Shit! Come on, then, get your kit off!"

"What?!"

"No time to explain, just get it off! Jack, here, has to borrow it. He's on Her Majesty's service."

"Just let me get this out to—"

"There's no time!"

"—table twelve."

"Oh. Oh, yes, hurry up, then..."

Gareth shakes his head and leaves.

"What's so special about table twelve?" Jack starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Rhiannon leans in and stage-whispers, "That's the hotel inspector's table. We're not supposed to know who it is, but they got careless."

"Fuck!"

Jack whips around to see Ianto plunging through the door, hand inside his suit jacket where Jack knows his holster to be. "Ianto!"

It's too late.

Jack turns to Rhiannon. "If you hear shots fired, you call the police!" He takes off after Ianto.

Gwen and Katie are gone, along with Williams and Smith. And dammit, but Ianto's _fast_! The dining room's small, but how did they get out of it so quickly? He pushes his way through as quietly and calmly as he can, noting people complaining about 'rudeness' and 'injury' and someone being in too much of a hurry.

And then he's in the lobby and there's nobody in sight.

He looks toward the desk, where Bethan is nodding sagely at him and pointing toward the main door. He nods his thanks and follows her point, thumbing his holster open.

The red Fiat is pulling out of the car park as he goes through the door, and he's looking for signs of Ianto, Williams and Smith. The Note is still in the car park, at least, which means Ianto probably didn't drive off on his own. Probably.

Something's moaning off to his right, and Jack turns to investigate. "Jesus!"

"He died on a cross, not of fucking embarrassment."

Jack reaches Ianto just as the heap on the ground is beginning to coalesce into human form. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I tripped over a fucking molehill in the lawn. It's fucking January! What are they doing up at this time of year? Fucking global warming!"

"Hey, hey! Slow down. Don't try to get up. Did you lose consciousness?"

"Got to get after them. Smith is—"

"Ianto! Did you lose consciousness?"

"No! I didn't even hit my fucking head! Just twisted my ankle in the hole and got fucking winded."

"Okay, then, let me help you up."

"I don't need your fucking help! I can do it by my—Ow!"

"Partner, remember? Now shut up and let me help you before Rhiannon calls an ambulance!"

Ianto's mouth closes.

"Good!" Jack hauls Ianto carefully to his feet, slipping an arm around his back for support. "Now put your arm around me...."

"I don't need—"

"—my fucking help. Yeah, I know, but humour me, all right?"

Ianto growls something behind clenched teeth.

"We'll get inside quicker—"

"I don't want to go inside!"

"Okay, but we're not going after them, and you should call Owen."

"Who died and made you the fucking boss?"

"Nobody yet, and I want to keep it that way! And you might want to swear less. It doesn't seem to be helping you to let off steam like it should."

"I can think of something that would," Ianto growls.

Jack can imagine the scowl, even in the dark, and bites back a leering response. "Look, let's just get inside, okay? We should get a look at that ankle, and take a look at how they paid for dinner. Sooner, the better."

"You've got a point, there." Ianto drapes an arm over Jack's shoulders. "But I'm _really_ looking forward to taking you to Newport."

Jack winces a bit at the hard squeeze Ianto gives his neck.

*****

"Fucking cash!"

Jack nods. "Some of the major airlines won't even accept it anymore."

Ianto moans into the pillow. "God, you're good at this!"

"I told you! And you're still stiff as a board. What can I do to help you relax?"

"You're doing it." Ianto winces as Jack hits a sore spot. "But you could always do that thing at the back of my head again."

Jack smiles and rubs his thumb slowly up and down in the notch at the base of Ianto's skull. "You know you can do this to yourself, right? Whenever you're tense and don't need your hands for other things."

"You saying you can't wank and do this at the same time? Pity..."

"Actually, I was thinking of driving through small villages at the speed of sound."

Ianto moans but doesn't tense as Jack had expected.

Jack works out a knot over Ianto's right shoulder blade before moving further down and exploring the mid-back. Ianto is very slim, almost enough to be considered bankable in Hollywood, but not yet that gaunt. However, the muscles feel underused, somehow, for all their tension, and Jack wonders about Ianto's conversation with Rhiannon. "Okay, how about you tell me why you haven't been eating, then?"

Ianto does tense, this time.

"Hey, I'm giving you a therapeutic massage, and you promised to tell me about Brecon. I'm giving you options, but a deal's a deal."

"When you've finished the massage," Ianto says at last.

Jack ponders this as he feels the muscles in Ianto's back. "You are pretty tense," he allows.

"Yeah...."

"Fair enough. But I'm trusting you on this."

"You make it sound like it's some sort of gift."

Jack chuckles, and it's less hollow than he'd expected. "You have no idea."

"If you're willing to trust me to tell you stuff that's none of your business, why can't you trust me to do my job?"

"Because you haven't told me why you took off at a dead run through your family's restaurant with no notice and your hand on your weapon." Jack pushes Ianto back down against the mattress and finishes kneading a knot near his spine. "And that is my business, thanks to Mr. Harper and Mr. Smith."

"If you'd let me go, we could've caught Smith and been on our way back to Cardiff by now! Smith is dangerous."

Jack pushes Ianto down again. "And Harper has his North Wales agent on the case, you said."

"I don't even know who the agent is! And what about your fiancée? Aren't you worried about her? Oh, God, that hurts! Oh, god...mmm ow ohh...."

"First of all, according to your aunt, Gwen and Williams turned right when the Fiat turned left. And while I hate Williams for taking her away from me, everything Harper's dug up on him makes him sound like a solid guy who knows how to handle himself. Secondly, Gwen is a black belt in nearly every martial art and is almost as good at shooting things as I am. Thirdly.... Yeah, I'm worried as hell, and if Owen's man lets anything happen to her, I'll kill him. And your boss." Jack smoothes his hands over Ianto's back one last time and gets off, moving to his side of the bed. "So. Wanna tell me what has you so hot and bothered about this Kevin Smith?"

"It's ... personal...."

Jack stops arranging himself against the headboard and peers at Ianto. "I kinda got that. But I thought you'd never met him?"

"I haven't."

"So...?"

Ianto sighs, face still turned away from Jack and nearly three-quarters buried in the pillow. "Lisa did."

Jack goes very still. "Oh?"

"She wasn't supposed to."

"I assume it was business? I mean, that she was trying to reel him in for MI5?"

Ianto's head moves in a way that looks like a nod. "It wasn't her case."

Jack takes a moment to absorb this. "I thought you said she was your partner," he says, as gently as he's pulling the quilt – duvet, Gwen would remind him – over Ianto's goose-fleshed back.

"That's what she said. But this time, we were assigned to different cases. She was so good. She could get anyone to talk about anything. She was so brilliant...."

Jack lets his hand linger on the quilt, feeling the heat of Ianto's shoulder start to seep through. "So what happened?"

"She was following a lead on her case in America. She had to meet a colleague at the CIA. Man called Pete Moss."

"Ouch! What a rotten name!"

Ianto smiles a little. "Yeah, we had a laugh over that one."

"Must be an alias. I know or know of just about every agent at the CIA. Or was he, like, a receptionist?"

"He was listed as tech support, but I think he was an agent. Lisa thought he might be black ops. She suspected he was a mole for the crime syndicate she was investigating."

"Crime syndicate? Sounds like your case."

"Child sex trafficking ring. Kids have been disappearing from the UK for a while. Mostly teenage girls. She had a call from a friend at MI6 who was spending a romantic week in Jamaica with someone from CIA who said Moss was in Thailand with the main subject of MI5's investigation. A bit more poking around, searching flight manifestos, and there he was. So off Lisa went. She had lunch with him." Ianto moves deeper into the pillow, but it doesn't hide the shift in his voice. "She could worm her way into anything, get anyone to like her. She talked to him for an hour."

"What did she find out?" Jack asks, after a moment.

"She rang me that night. Afternoon. Three o'clock, her time. Said he talked like he was some big fucking hero who'd broken the Thai child sex trade wide open. Talked about setting up a sting with MI5 to catch the people who were kidnapping the girls and selling them into sexual slavery. But then he dropped his wallet as he was getting up and a driving licence fell out of it. A pink one. UK. She said the name on it was Kevin Smith."

Jack waits.

"She pretended not to notice. Said she went to pick up some coins that went flying. She was very good at distracting people."

Jack becomes aware that he's rubbing soft circles into Ianto's shoulder.

"She was all excited for the both of us. Said she was coming back and she'd write everything down for us poor sods who didn't have her gift. She had a perfect memory for everything she heard. Her plane went down that night."

Jack presses his hand through the quilt to Ianto's shoulder. "And you think Smith had something to do with it?"

"I know he did."

"Can you prove it?"

"You know I can't."

"Yeah. Sorry, but I had to ask."

"Yeah." Ianto turns under Jack's hand. He doesn't shake it off, Jack notes. His eyes are dry, but they're red-rimmed and puffy again. "Look, Jack, if your Gwen's anywhere near him, she's no safer than my Lisa was."

Jack nods, trying very hard not to bolt from the room and go hurtling after Gwen and Williams. "I don't suppose you got a CIA photo of Pete Moss, or a driver's licence picture of Kevin Smith, did you?"

Ianto snorts. "I don't suppose you think I didn't try the second Lisa got off the phone, do you?" He sighs and settles. "Pete Moss's records at the CIA are either non-existent or sealed behind a vault only Doctor Who could get into. The driving licence is a fake. The Kevin Smiths registered in the UK all check out as people who aren't Kevin fucking Smith."

"I'm sorry."

Ianto sighs again and deflates under Jack's arm. "No, I'm sorry. You wouldn't be doing your job if you didn't ask."

Jack rubs Ianto's shoulder, a more intimate gesture now that Ianto is facing him and filling his arm. "Don't worry about it. Hey, listen, mind if I borrow your cell phone?"

"Who are you going to call?"

"Harper."

"He'll kill you."

"That's why I'm calling him. You need the sleep, and he'll create an international incident if he kills me. Plus, everyone at the CIA loves me, and so do most of the people at NSA." Jack gives Ianto a cocky grin that also serves as a wink.

Ianto blinks, bleary-eyed. "Suit yourself," he slurs, and sits up, dislodging Jack's arm, albeit without obvious intent. He stretches. "Thanks for the massage. You really are good at it."

"You're welcome." Jack watches Ianto move, liking the way his skin plays over the muscles of shoulder and back as he reaches for his suit jacket. "I had good teachers."

Ianto hands Jack the cell. "Is that a story I do or do not want to know about?"

Jack smirks. "Another time, maybe. Gotta call your boss. Er... what's his number?"

 


	4. Chapter 4

Not even the seductive bulge caressed by the soft knit can excuse the sight of Johnny's oversized trackies on Jack's form. The navy tee, also two sizes too big, does even less for him. Gone is the cocky confidence Jack normally exudes. And though Ianto has never really wanted to notice, he must admit that he misses the gorgeousness of it.

"I can't let Gwen see me like this!" Jack pulls forlornly at the gruesome knits, enhancing the contours of his not so privates.

"My brother-in-law was never known for his dress sense." Ianto keeps his eyes resolutely on Jack's left shoulder, where a wear-hole near the seam is stretching and moving like a tiny, greedy mouth as Jack shifts and tugs at the hem.

"Your brother-in-law has the dress sense of a warthog!"

Ianto can't help smiling at that. "He's quite proud of that."

"I don't suppose you could, you know..." Jack glances meaningfully at Ianto's jeans before giving him a pleading look.

"Not a chance! Those things are practically falling off you, and they're twice the size of these." Ianto hooks a thumb inside the waistband of his jeans and pulls, a bit surprised at how much room there actually is.

Something must have shown in Ianto's face, because Jack just nods and says, "Maybe we should both get some new clothes."

Ianto nods slowly, trying to figure out how he can avoid spending the money.

"Know a good place? You said I'd need to blend in with the natives."

Ianto rolls his eyes. "Come on." He breezes past Jack, tugging the dingy, navy sleeve. "There's an army surplus store up the road."

Jack brightens. "Do they sell guns?"

"If they do, you're not allowed to buy any."

"Not even if I'm working with MI5?

"Especially not then."

Jack shrugs. "Worth a try."

*****

Jack emerges from the changing room positively beaming in a pair of pleated, navy trousers and a short-sleeved shirt with naval epaulettes. "Whaddya think?"

"I think it's January, and you'll catch your death."

"God, you are always fussing! What is with you?"

"'Who', more like," mumbles Ianto.

"Hey! You wanna kvetch or switch to some constructive advice, Mister Critic?"

Ianto sighs and wishes for about the twenty-second time that they hadn't slept through Newport. He casts a practised eye up and down the ensemble. "The trousers are passable, though they could stand to be a couple of inches longer and they're a bit tight in the waist—"

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Jack cranes his neck to examine his frame from all possible angles. "I didn't think I was fat...."

Ianto rolls his eyes. "You're not fat, you're just wearing trousers that were made for someone who was five-foot-seven and short in the rise, whilst you're six-foot-one and longer there. That style isn't meant to hit at the same place as your jeans."

Jack's eyes widen.

"As for the shirt," Ianto continues before Jack can cause more of a scene, "It's an interesting period piece that's totally out of season, and although the belt and braces look does go with that era, the braces don't work with the shirt. Especially when you put them through the epaulettes. And, er, you shouldn't wear those unless you've earned them. Do you wish to join the Royal Navy?"

"All due respect, but hell, no!"

"Get seasick, do you?"

"Putting it mildly. I get nauseous crossing a puddle."

"Ah. That could be a problem if you ever decide to settle in Wales."

"Which is why Gwen and I are going to live in the good old U S of A."

"Did you ask her about that?"

"Of course I did!"

Ianto nods thoughtfully. "How did you put it, exactly?"

"Well, I said, 'You know I don't do oceans, right?' and she said, 'Yeah, I sort of got that when you threw up on me when we went fishing at Pinkham Pond,' and then I said, 'So you know we have to live in America because I can't live in Wales, right?' and she said, 'Right.' She's totally fine with it." Jack tugs at his braces. "So, do I put these over the epaulettes?"

Ianto takes a deep breath and expels it as silently as he can. "Look for trousers that fit you and a long-sleeved shirt without anything on the shoulders, if you like the braces so much."

"Why long-sleeved?"

"January? In Snowdonia? Assuming you want to survive."

"Oh, yeah. Although I do pretty well in the cold."

"Short sleeves in a blizzard is suicidal. If you are going to be suicidal, I'll report that to Owen, and he can have you deported to the loving arms of your Mr. Smith."

"Okay, okay! I was just saying!" Jack stalks off to look at other shirts.

Ianto forces himself to look away and start trying to find a few pieces for himself.

He has just managed to find a plain, white shirt and a wool coat that fits nearly perfectly, except that it's a bit too short, when Jack appears from the fitting room in another pair of pleat-front trousers, this time charcoal grey and paired with a white, long-sleeved shirt. The grey belt and braces are the same he wore before, but this time there are no epaulettes to ruin things.

"Well?" Jack turns around, his confidence level definitely up a notch or two.

Ianto appraises the clothing. "The rise is right, this time, and they're long enough... bit loose in the waist and leg, but they'll do. The shirt is ... turn around? Oh, that looks a bit tight across the back. Take the cufflinks out.... Ah! The sleeves are half an inch too short. Should be correctable. Nice cufflinks, by the way."

"You aren't going to hassle me for not being in the RAF?

"Nope."

Jack eyes him.

"You were an actual pilot, after all."

"Ah.... Professional courtesy." Jack flashes Ianto a million-watt smile.

Ianto nods once. "Now go find yourself a coat."

"What's wrong with my jacket?" Jack thumbs the supple leather, showing off the gorgeous craftsmanship and the seventeen diagonal seams that have made Ianto's mind boggle since he first laid eyes on it.

"Blending in, remember? That ... doesn't."

"Ngeurff!" Jack growls through gritted teeth as he turns on his heel and heads back to the racks.

Ianto watches his retreating back, wondering at the change in his temporary partner. Where is his nervousness? Where is his protectiveness of Gwen? Ianto can understand taking full advantage of Owen's order to step to the side and let the unknown member of the team handle things, given that both he and Jack are recognisable by Gwen and, more importantly, Katie, but he can't fathom Jack's calm good cheer. It just doesn't make sense.

"Ta daa!"

Ianto swings around at Jack's interruption and gapes.

"Well? Whaddya think?" Jack twirls, which isn't good for the shelf of items the coat knocks to the floor.

"That's ... all wrong. The shoulders are too broad, the back vent goes all the up your arse, it's too long and it's fucking dangerous."

Jack stares for a moment as the bottom three feet of the coat finally dawdle to a halt. "You said warm...." His eyes change, narrow and then widen. "And you LOVE it!" Jack grins. "You do, don't you?!"

Ianto does.

"I knew it! I bet you even like the epaulettes."

Ianto does.

"You're jealous that you didn't find it first!"

Ianto is.

Jack throws his head back and laughs, a sight Ianto finds both intoxicating and terrifying. Terrifying because until this moment, Ianto has never realised just how huge Jack's mouth is – or should he say maw – and because at the sight of Jack Harkness in those trousers, that shirt, that belt, those braces and that coat, he knows he's a dead man.

"It is a fantastic coat," Ianto admits at last. "But you're not exactly going to blend in with it, are you?"

"Maybe blending in is overrated."

With the sinful tone oozing from every pore of Jack's being, it takes Ianto a moment to realise that Jack is very firmly in his space and that he is very much in danger of forgetting himself and his role both in apprehending Kevin Smith and in helping Jack get Gwen back. Although that part of the deal is receding rapidly from his mind.

"Oi! You two! Get a room!"

"We have one," says Jack, silkily.

"Sorry about him," says Ianto. "Can't take him anywhere."

The clerk mutters something Ianto can't hear and turns back to his work.

"Look, it's this or the jacket, if you really insist on me wearing something warm and this is the only available place. Everything else is the wrong size or orange."

Ianto winces before he can control himself.

"See? Orange is not a good look on me."

"I know another place," says Ianto, at last.

"Oh?" Jack eyes him.

Ianto sighs. "Yup. Buy everything else you've got on. We'll get the coat at – there."

"I'm buying the coat, too," says Jack after an appraising moment. "It's too good to pass up."

"All right, but it's on you. MI5 isn't paying for costuming that gets you or me killed."

"Unless that's what they had in mind in the first place," Jack mutters.

Ianto shoots Jack a look as he lays his purchases on the counter and pulls out his company credit card. He gestures to Jack to do the same. "Mind if he wears those on the way out?"

The clerk shrugs. "Going to a fancy dress ball at this time of day? Still, it's better than what you wore in. Bloody indecent, that was!"

"You noticed!"

Ianto groans and wonders if he could find a way to allow the man to beat Jack to a pulp without being found derelict in his duty.

"Yeah, I did. Awful thing to do to perfectly good cloth! Should be outlawed...." The clerk looks up at them hopefully. "I can bin them, if you want?"

"Sorry, but they belong to my brother-in-law."

The clerk looks from one to the other of them.

Ianto jerks his head at Jack. "Airline lost his luggage."

"Oh! Oh, well that explains it then, doesn't it? Still ought to bin those things, though."

"I know," says Ianto fervently, and then he realises that Jack said it with him.

The clerk shakes his head and cuts the tags off Jack's new clothes.

*****

Ianto seems unusually quiet as they round the corner. In fact, Ianto has seemed unusually quiet since they left the army surplus store – shop. He wonders if Ianto is wondering about his phone call to Harper. He wonders if he should tell Ianto about his phone call to Harper. But 'Never volunteer anything, especially to a partner' has always worked well for him, so he just walks along beside an enigmatic young man and enjoys the swing of his new coat. At least, he enjoys it when it isn't tangling up around his ankles and practically pitching him into the narrow street where people seem to want to drive at a million miles an hour.

The coat keeps moving when he stops abruptly because Ianto does, and the hem wraps itself neatly around Ianto's shin. Just one shin.

"Getting a bit personal, aren't you?"

"Sorry. Didn't know we were walking so close!"

"Bloody coat!" Ianto sighs, hesitating just a bit before opening the door. It's only then that Jack realises he's doing it with a key. "Come in before the wind blows up all the dust."

Jack steps inside a building that takes him back to the nineteenth century. That is, if he'd been alive back then, which he hadn't. No matter how old he worries he's getting.

Ianto flips the lights on and locks the door.

"What dust?" Jack looks around. The place is gleaming, in a classy, old-fashioned, men's tailor shop kind of way, even though there isn't a stitch of clothing anywhere to be seen.

Ianto freezes. "Someone's been in recently."

"I'm beginning to think you shouldn't have—"

"Someone's still here," says a smooth voice.

"—locked us in like that," Jack finishes.

They turn slowly around.

"Hello, Ianto. Long time, no see."

"Brian Jones...." – Ianto.  
And  
"John Hart...." – Jack.

"What?" – Ianto.  
And  
"Wait...." – Jack.

"You know him?" – Both.

"I always said you'd make good eye-candy, Ianto, but how the hell did you end up with him?"

"You said I'd end up sucking cock for money."

Jack suddenly feels very lucky that he's never seen Ianto seething with this much deep rage. "You know how it is, John. Small world, and all that. I came to Wales to get my fiancée back after she ran off with another guy, and Ianto, here, sat next to me on the plane."

Hart snorts. "Fiancée? You? Like that would ever happen!"

"Well, it did, so what are you going to do about it? And when were you 'Brian Jones'?"

"Ah! Well, that would be when I was growing up. Ianto here is the only one who knows my real name. Well, except for you, now." Hart/Jones sighs. "Of course, I changed it to Hart, legally. Couldn't go around letting people think I was just a common Jones."

"What do you want?" Ianto cuts in.

"I came to take possession of what I won from you." Hart looks around the room. "I think it's time I had a little shop all my own, don't you? Especially since I already own one that's just sitting around taking up space."

"What would you want with a tailor's shop?"

"Oh, that's not really any of your business, is it, eye-candy? More to the point, why do you still have a key to my shop?" Hart stretches out his hand and beckons.

Ianto starts to hand it over.

Jack grasps his wrist. "Actually, I'm curious about that, too. What exactly do you want with a tailor's shop?"

Hart swipes the key from Ianto's fingers. "Let's talk instead about the woman you're calling your fiancée. She says you were her boyfriend. Emphasis on 'were'."

"What have you done with her?"

"Oh, nothing. Yet. She's quite safe, for the moment. She was just talking about you over dinner last night."

"I thought that was you," says Jack, quietly.

"Yeah, well, once you've spent a year shagging someone, you never forget their body contours, how their muscles move..." Hart moves closer to Jack... "how their skin feels, the sounds they make when they're excited..." Hart strokes the back of a finger down Jack's cheek. "Not even through a kitchen porthole."

"You're Kevin Smith."

"Ah! Toy-boy gets it at last! Took you long enough, but then, you always did see what you wanted to see. Like that royal flush you thought you had."

"The one I _did_ have."

"You didn't when I called."

"That's because you cheated."

"Did I?" Hart smiles. "Want to tell me how I managed to replace just one card whilst you were looking right at me?"

"It wasn't you. It was Gavin Peters when I was placing my last bet."

"Very good! You must have studied poker tricks for years after you lost this place."

"He in the back room, with the rest of your thugs?"

"It isn't nice to call us thugs, mate."

They turn to see a stocky man, about five-foot-nine or ten.

Jack moves, quicker than lightning, and pins the man to the floor with his speed, weight and right hook. "What have you done with Gwen?"

Before the man can answer, two more men pour out of the back room and haul Jack off of his victim. "Oi! None of that," says a pinch-faced little weasel of a man who is holding a rather large Glock to Jack's temple. "Nobody knocks our Mister Williams on his arse."

"Hello, Gavin," says Ianto, with a smile Jack knows means trouble.

"Well, well, well! Look who's come back from the big city, then! Brought us back some French fromage, have you? Mincing little homo twat—"

Hart grabs Peters by the face, squashing the man's mouth until it's fish-like. "Now, what have I told you about that word?"

"That it's a perfectly normal part of the female body and shouldn't be applied to a man except by the woman who owns it."

"Exactly. Now why don't you and Johnson just detain Captain Harkness over there before I put you in the naughty spot?"

Jack feels the tremor run through Peters and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hart engineered Lisa's death. He also knows that he and Ianto – well, Ianto, at least – will be killed, and that Katie and Gwen are doomed if Hart lives. For the moment, he lets Peters drag him none too gently in the direction of Hart's head-jerk. "Naughty spot? I can think of a few naughty spots that—Ah-hahh!"

"Now, now, Gavin," says Hart with a smirk Jack can hear, "mustn't damage our guest too badly yet."

As Peters hooks his arm up a little higher, Jack feels the bone begin to groan. He grits his teeth and refuses to do more than breathe hard.

Peters waits the exact number of beats designed to maximise pain without damage before he drops Jack's arm.

At that point, Jack does yelp, which makes Hart and Peters smile.

"Rhys, Mr. Jones here doesn't look too steady on his feet, does he?"

"Why, no, he doesn't, Mr. Smith." Williams locks Ianto's arms behind his back in a hold Jack learned in Special Ops.

Ianto struggles just enough to check the hold, his face turning pale just when Jack knows the pain would hit. "You killed Lisa."

"Lisa? Which Lisa? Lisa, the fat little clerk at Tesco? Lisa, the Minister's poodle? Lisa, the maid at Downing Street? Lisa, the – oh, look, you've gone all red."

Jack refuses to struggle against the men holding him.

"Lisa Hallett."

"Ohh... Lisa, the pretty black girl! Oh, she was lovely, she was, and very good at her job. Too bad I just happened to drop my ID."

"You murdering, fucking monster!" Ianto's face contorts into shapes Jack hadn't imagined possible as he strains against Williams's hold. Ianto should be going white and stopping from the pain that it would cause as Williams strains to keep him under control.

"Restraints, Rhys."

"Yes, Mr. Smith." Williams handcuffs Ianto's wrists.

"So old-fashioned! I like the plastic strip thingies so much better."

Ianto hurls himself forward, only to yell and shake when Williams pulls out a small control device.

"Plastic doesn't carry a current, sir."

"Let me see those...." Hart steps forward as Williams spins Ianto around.

"Perfectly normal cuffs, but I rewired them. Thought it would be more efficient that way. Just finished them this morning."

Hart takes the control from Williams.

"Just press that button there, and—"

"Yes, I had guessed that."

"Sorry, sir."

Hart presses the button and Ianto yelps again. "How long could I keep this up before he dies?"

"Few minutes, probably."

"Oooh, let's see, shall we?" Hart presses again, and this time Ianto's eyes start to roll up into his head as he screams.

This part of things, Jack has never handled well. Watching a partner struggle through pain is easier than it should be for him. Every time he goes through it, he hears the lines from _Lawrence of Arabia_, disjunct, out of context: _"I killed two people." "I enjoyed it."_

This time, though, there's a part of him that aches for Ianto. He can't help thinking of the weird sweetness of waking up with Ianto curled around him and deeply asleep. He's had that happen before, of course, but never like this. There's always been a possessive element to it before, whereas this morning's awakening had felt more matter-of-fact, innocent, as though Ianto just did that with any warm body nearby. He had smiled at the time, biting down on a snort when memories of Ianto's conscious personality flooded his mind, and resisted the urge to stroke Ianto's hair before extracting himself from the man's loose embrace.

"Stop it!"

Hart swings around toward Jack, finger slipping off the button long enough for Ianto to drop to his knees.

"I mean, there are people walking by out there. Why attract attention when you can just use a silencer?"

Hart sighs. "Good point, killjoy."

"I'll kill you."

Jack isn't sure whether Ianto's rasped threat applies to Hart, or to him.

"Well, that's just the problem, isn't it? I can't have some grieving boyfriend—"

"Fiancé!"

"Oh, now, that's interesting, because she said you never really asked. She was always your girlfriend, not your life partner."

Ianto is breathing hard, eyes and face red with strain. "You know nothing of us."

"Oh, that's not really true, is it? But it doesn't matter. You're in my home, on my turf, and you're out to kill me, so you've gotta go." Hart checks his watch. "And I'm running late. Have to take Katie to lunch at this nice little inn I'm about to own. Have to change the staff around, of course, make some people redundant."

"Hey, John!"

Hart turns to Jack as he pulls a Glock from his holster. "Yes, lover?" He thumbs the safety off.

"How about one game of poker, just you and me?"

"And the stakes? As if I couldn't guess."

"I win, you let Ianto and me go and I get Gwen out of here."

"And Katie!" Ianto yells.

"And Katie, if she wants to go."

"And if I win?" Hart doesn't even bother to hide his smirk.

Jack snorts. "Like we'd have a choice!"

Hart nods. "Touché." But then he shakes his head. "Nope, sorry, Jack. I really don't have the time." He walks towards Ianto. "Make him stand up!"

Williams pulls Ianto up, roughly enough that they almost tip off balance. "Oi! Watch it, you!"

Hart takes aim between Ianto's eyes just as Ianto begins to smile.

And then Jack sees, as though in slow motion, a glance from Williams, a thumb movement on the device, a pair of handcuffs falling to the floor, a gun – Smith &amp; Wesson semi-auto, if he's any judge – in Ianto's hand.

Ianto knocks Hart's hand out of the way and shoots him between the eyes.

Williams aims in Jack's direction as Jack drops between Peters and Johnson.

Peters goes down with a bullet to the carotid.

Jack sweeps Johnson's legs out from under him and wrests the gun from—

"I'm on your side!" It's a female voice.

Jack blinks. How did he not recognise Johnson as female? "Sorry?"

"No apology necessary." Johnson is off the ground immediately and holding out her hand. "Gun?"

Jack hands the weapon back to Johnson, and she hauls him off the floor. "Whoa!"

Johnson appraises him. "You're a bit soggy in the middle. Your reaction time would decrease by about fifteen percent if you got rid of that." She jerks her head towards Ianto. "Feed him what you shouldn't have, and you'll make a good team someday. Nice work, Mr. Jones!" She turns on her heel and stalks off as she makes a call on her cell.

Jack just stares after her, blinking. And then he remembers Ianto. And Gwen.

He rounds on Rhys Williams. "Where's Gwen?"

"She's perfectly safe. Although she keeps demanding that I bring her along on missions."

"Yeah? She does that with me, too." They are eye to eye now, and Jack doesn't want to see what he's starting to see.

"She wants to see you," says Rhys, at last. "Or at least, I want her to see you. There's unfinished business getting in the way, and I don't want to be second choice."

Jack sighs against the unexpected mix of feeling. "Where and when?"

"At the inn. After you've washed up and we've cleared up this lot. Sorry about the mess, Ianto. I promise we'll make it like new."

"Never mind about that. What about Katie?" Ianto sounds tired, strained.

Jack finds himself standing next to him.

"Gwen's with her, explaining everything. She'll need a good shoulder to cry on, and Gwen's that."

"How long has she known about you?" asks Jack quietly.

Rhys smiles, ruefully. "Since she caught me on the phone talking with Owen. I tried to lie my way out, but—"

"You can't ever do that with Gwen," Jack finishes, with his own sad smile. "Want some help cleaning up?"

Rhys's smile disappears, eyes widening in horror. "Oh, no! That's Johnson's territory! You don't want to get in her way. She's the best assassin MI5's ever seen!"

"Oh, yeah? Then how come you and Ianto took out the bad guys?"

"You'll want to look at that body, again."

Jack stoops and sees a perfect little entry wound on the left side of Peters' neck. The right side is a blown-out mess of an exit wound. "I thought you—"

"My shot went wide, mate. If you hadn't dropped, you'd be another body to clear up, along with an international incident." Rhys nods toward a point behind Jack.

Sure enough, there's a hole in the dark wood of the wall, and when Jack examines it, he thinks he can see a slug. He looks back at Rhys.

"I wasn't aiming for you, I promise! Hart was always cheap when it came to buying equipment for his men." Rhys hands Jack his gun.

"The sight's off." Jack ejects the clip and sights down the barrel. "Whoa!"

Ianto grasps Rhys by the collar. "Why the fuck did you aim that close if you knew you had an aiming problem that bad?"

"I wasn't going to fire until I had a clear shot, but you knocked into me when you shot Smith! Hart! Whatever his name was!"

Ianto drops Rhys. "I need some air." He's gone before Jack can open his mouth.

*****

Ianto hears footsteps behind him and knows it's Jack. "I want to be alone."

Jack sits beside him on the rock. "That's what people always say when they mean it least."

"It's also what they say when they mean it most."

"Okay, but you don't. Not right now."

"And you know me so well."

"I know you had a gambling problem."

"Good guess."

"I know you've been scrimping on food."

"I have not been scrimping! I've just ... not been hungry, is all."

"I know the tailor's shop wasn't all you lost in that bet."

Ianto stiffens. He hears the cloth-muffled crackle of an envelope being pulled out of a thick pocket.

"I found this in the pile of clothing Rhiannon gave us last night."

Ianto doesn't need to see what it is.

"Why did you bet the family farm?"

Ianto shrugs. "You said it yourself. I have a gambling problem."

"I said 'had', and that doesn't fit you. I've known a lot of people in a lot of places, and I've spent a fair bit of time in casinos in my day, and you just don't fit the profile."

Ianto turns brightly to Jack. "Didn't I promise to help you get Gwen back if you helped me with my case?"

"I'll be happy to take any help you can give me once you've answered my question."

Ianto sighs and turns back to gazing at Snowdonia.

"It's beautiful," murmurs Jack. "Why did you gamble it away?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what your call to Owen was about."

"Oh, that! That's easy. I threatened him with bringing in every secret agency in the United States if he didn't keep Gwen safe from Kevin Smith. He told me I had nothing to worry about, I told him that her new boyfriend," Jack's teeth clench on that word, "was working for the bastard, so the very next call I'd make was to Mr. Smith, whom I have actually met and who does actually like me quite a lot, even though he'll never admit it. And then he told me that Williams was with another cell of MI5 from the one we were working with, and that Gwen couldn't be in safer hands with him on the job."

"So that's why you stopped obsessing on her this morning."

"I suppose. Although I was still worried sick about her."

They sit in silence for a bit, and Ianto can feel the warmth of Jack pressing through the fabric of their coats. He hadn't realised they were touching.

"My dad was sick," he says, at last. "Cancer. They'd exhausted all the available treatment options. I thought about selling the family businesses, but that would have broken his heart. I was working as administrative support for the local constabulary. Not exactly brilliant pay, but I saved everything I could to get him to an experimental treatment programme in Switzerland. It wasn't nearly enough. I was good at poker, though. Got a photographic memory, a good head for numbers and a good poker face."

Jack bumps his shoulder and chuckles, which makes Ianto warm a little, inside.

"I started making money at it. A few quid here and there, just friendly matches. And then Brian Jones invited me to a game. Bit like singing in the school choir and then suddenly you're headlining at the Royal Albert Hall."

"I bet!"

Ianto smirks, but it passes. "I'd made twenty thousand quid, and the pot was another thirty."

"Thirty thousand?"

Ianto nods. "I was dealt a royal flush – spades. Brian called, and, well, you know the rest."

Jack nods.

"Dad died six weeks later. After his funeral, nobody in the family would speak to me. Mum was killed in a car crash a year later."

"I'm so sorry."

Ianto lets the wind blow into his eyes as he gazes at the distant mountain lands that were once his inheritance. It's easier to dismiss those sorts of tears.

Jack presses the envelope into Ianto's hand. "This belongs to you. I shouldn't have snooped."

Ianto snorts. "It's your job!"

Jack wraps his arm around Ianto's back and rubs away cold Ianto didn't know was there. "We'll get your inheritance back. Hart cheated. Rhys Williams is a witness. And besides, you cracked that bank case. You're due a huge reward!"

Ianto brightens at that. "Really?"

"Well, that's what Owen told me on the phone last night."

"Oh. Well, then...."

Jack stands up and pulls Ianto to his feet and into his, Jack's, arms. "Jesus, it's cold out here!" He rubs Ianto's back. "Now, do you want to tell me why you've been scrimping and saving over the past few weeks?"

Ianto pushes Jack away and starts back towards the inn.

"Hey!" Jack catches him by the arm. "Look, the case isn't over yet, we still need to tie up some loose ends, and I have to work with you. I need to know!"

Ianto wants to kill Jack. More to the point, he wants to want to kill Jack.

"Ianto?"

The plea in Jack's voice pushes Ianto to a decision. "I'm saving for a crypt for Lisa."

Jack hooks his arm around Ianto's neck as they face the inn. For a moment, he just holds them there, and Ianto wants nothing more than to lean into it. But then Jack speaks. "Come on. Let's get warmed up, take a shower and talk strategy."

"Strategy?"

"Well, yeah! You said you'd help me get Gwen back, right? I've gotta be ready to meet her!"

"Oh." Ianto wishes his heart weren't falling straight through the floor to Australia. It's completely illogical, and inconvenient in its pain.

"You okay?" Jack tugs Ianto a little closer, jostling him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, is all. And a bit achy."

Jack tugs them towards the inn.

*****

Jack rubs Savlon into the burns on Ianto's wrists. "Jesus!"

"Actually, Ianto's short for Ifan, which means John. Just in case you want to be accurate about which New Testament figure you confuse me with."

Jack shakes his head. "You know, I could just let you do this yourself."

"Yup. I'm a big boy."

"Too late. All done." Jack puts the tube down on the little window table and raises his hands.

"Thanks, Jack. You've, er, got a nice touch when you're not being an arse."

"Thanks," says Jack in a very different tone.

"I just mean that if you want a chance with Gwen, maybe you should try just being quiet with her. You can be quite charming when you're quiet. You know, really listening."

Jack stands up and stretches, hissing at the pain remaining in his arm and back muscles.

Ianto stands up and flexes his wrists as he moves towards a more open space. He beckons to Jack. "Come here."

Jack hesitates.

"Look, you're not going to do well with Gwen if you're all tense and whingeing about the pain you're in."

"I'm not _whining_, I just breathed!"

"Just shut up and come here."

Jack sighs and does as he's told, facing Ianto with hands on hips.

Ianto shakes his head. "Arms down." It's quiet and assertive, which he likes because he's trembling inside, and there are too many possible reasons why.

Jack complies.

Ianto begins to work at Jack's left arm, feeling through the fabric of the shirt for the muscles and tendons beneath the skin. "I know how much that hold hurts."

"I noticed."

Ianto looks up at the quietude in Jack's voice.

"When you checked Rhys's grip. Where did you learn about it?"

"In a fight with Gavin Peters."

Jack huffs. "Figures."

"And later on in training, when Owen gave me all the anatomical details I never wanted to know about exactly how it causes pain and how to work the muscles afterwards."

"Which is – Ah! – why I'm starting to feel like my arm's turning to Jello?"

"Jelly. And it's just temporary."

"Good! 'Cause I wouldn't want to lose the use of my arms, you know?"

Ianto smirks. He shouldn't, because Jack's irritating, but he can't help it.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Ianto switches arms, just a bit roughly.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

"No, you're not!"

"How would you know? You never ask!"

"Sure, I do! Just now I asked you—"

"Just a few seconds ago, we were having a quiet, sensible conversation, maybe about to—" Ianto swallows— "get to know each other a bit more, and now you're fussing and shouting."

"Okaay...." Jack lowers his voice to a murmur. "Is this better?"

"Be serious, Jack." Ianto strokes a tender muscle just firmly enough to work it loose without hurting it.

"Oh, that feels good...."

"Exactly! It's like life. If you want people to relax around you, get close to you, you have to listen to them."

"I listen...."

"Yeah, sometimes you do, but you've got a really big personality, and it can be a bit ... overwhelming."

"So you're saying I don't listen?"

"Well, I wasn't...."

Jack sighs. "Go on."

"Look, Jack, there's nothing wrong with being larger than life, but sometimes the rest of us poor mortals can't keep up. If you're always 'on', how do you expect Gwen to cope with you?"

"What do you mean?" Jack sounds tired, maybe a bit defeated.

"Remember when you said she was fine with living in America?"

"Yeah...."

"Think about it, Jack. Did you really ask her? Or did you just tell her in the form of a question?"

Jack searches the floor as Ianto starts kneading his shoulders gently. "I suppose I told her." He looks up, searching Ianto's eyes. "So what do you want me to do? Throw myself at her feet and tell her I'll live anywhere she wants?"

Ianto hasn't realised just how close they've crept until he can see every nuance of grey and blue in Jack's eyes, and can calculate to the nearest millimetre just how long those black lashes are. "I want you...." He clears his throat just a hair's breadth too late. "I want you to just ask her what she wants. And then, I want you...."

Jack is gazing intently at Ianto, whose hands are now resting on his shoulders about half an inch from his gorgeous neck. "You want me...."

"I want you...." Ianto could probably think through the cloud of lust dancing through his mind, even though Jack-induced lust-clouds are thicker and more distracting than most, but he can't get through the barrier of sheer, long-term _need_ impaling the core of him. He releases Jack and puts five yards between them so he can have some oxygen. "I want you to listen to her and have a proper conversation with her so you can negotiate on equal footing what you want. At least, that's what Lisa told me to do."

Jack nods. "I thought I was doing that."

"Look, you have to meet her in ... an hour. I don't have the time or the training to delve into your issues, so just go have a shower and get dressed. Maybe something will jell whilst you're cleaning off all the muck of the day."

Jack turns for the bathroom and hesitates before turning back. "What should I wear?"

"What you have on is good. Just let me brush it off whilst you're in the shower, and—"  
Jack is stripping. He's peeling his clothes off as he walks to the bathroom and is completely naked as he steps inside and closes the door.

Ianto can only blink, not only at the man's efficiency but at the memory of his stunning arse. If Jack doesn't wear at least a towel when he comes out, Ianto will probably attack him, though he's not sure of his intent.

He picks up Jack's clothes, dusting off the trousers and shirt – which seem to have escaped both blood and damage – before giving them a quick press with the iron Rhi arranged for them when they returned. He focuses on the pleats in the trousers, not what he imagines of Jack's naked groin. He takes great care not to stretch the waistband, rather than remembering the feel of Jack's hands on his waist the night before.

He takes note of the perfect stitching of the shirt's seams and the cut and finish of the placket, never even considering the warm, smooth skin he'd memorised in his flat just a day and a half ago. He irons the sleeves without creasing them, never imagining the muscled arms that will inhabit them, that will take Gwen into a rapturous embrace when she comes to her senses and goes back with him to America. He shapes and presses the collar and neckband, wondering how such a perfectly made shirt had wound up in an army surplus store and not once thinking of how lovely it would be to slip his fingers inside and caress that sculpted neck as he kisses Jack with slow, sensual tenderness.

Tenderness?

Ianto hangs the shirt carefully before he sits in one of the small chairs by the window.

In silence, he ticks off the list of feelings it's possible for him to have towards Jack Harkness:

Attraction – of course.  
Lust – oh, yeah.  
Exasperation – fuck, yeah!  
Annoyance – in buckets.  
Anger – well, y—maybe? He'll come back to anger.  
Amusement – yeah, if he's honest.  
Care – um, he'll come back to—yes, he cares for Jack. Dammit!  
Trust – he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. But he does.  
Regard – yes. Far too much for such a short acquaintance.  
Respect – yes, and it's far too unguarded, given Jack's shenanigans.  
Esteem – he's trying really hard not to. He's failing.  
Envy – hell, yes, but he's not sure if it's Jack or Gwen he envies more.  
Affection – this is a hard one. But yes, if he's honest, and in too great a measure.  
Contempt – only when Jack's being a racist prat.  
Desire – so complicated, it requires its own list.  
Fear – yes. With Jack's background, he'd be foolish not to.  
Curiosity – damn it to hell, but yes! Which leads to  
Interest – of which Ianto Jones has metric tonnes, when it comes to Jack.  
Indifference – not even vaguely possible, and Ianto knows, because he's tried. Hard.  
Hate – he thought so, but now he's not so sure.  
Dislike – fading disconcertingly fast.  
Like – Jack's very likable. Most of the time. Some of the time. When he's not an arse.  
Love – impossible. Totally impossible in three days. And ridiculous. And inappropriate. And utterly, _utterly_ wrong. And—

Jack emerges, looking utterly lost. "Where are my clothes?"

Ianto thanks the remnant of God he still carries that Jack is wearing a towel. "In the wardrobe. I, er, pressed them for you."

Jack smiles hopefully and opens the wardrobe door. "Wow! You're really good at that! Thanks, Ianto."

"You're welcome. Now go get dressed."

Jack flashes the most affectionate grin Ianto's ever seen over his shoulder and starts toward the bathroom.

"Not in there! The moisture condensing in there will ruin the wool for a few hours and spot the shirt!"

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, again." Before Ianto can turn away and stare out at the field across the road, Jack drops his towel.

Ianto's fantasies were not accurate. He had missed the mark by at least three inches. Also, Jack is not cut. Fortunately, he has the presence of mind to note all of this in a nanosecond and keep turning back toward the window. He's not quite sure how he's breathing, but he manages, and keeps it civil and level. Though he does feel his ears turning pink, especially when he imagines kissing Jack—

"Hey, Ianto? Would you mind helping me with the braces? I think they're a little crooked, or something."

Ianto turns around, and sees Jack dressed – almost as fast as he can undress, which is impressive – and the cant of the braces. "That's odd," he says as he stands. "Never noticed that before. Turn around."

Jack turns slowly until Ianto sees what he's looking for.

"Stop! Right there. You want to move the right clip in the back about two inches to the left."

Jack reaches back and hisses, his face turning a little pale as he pulls his arm to the front again. "I don't think I can do stuff in the back, tonight. Um, would you mind?"

"Not at all." _Just tell Rhiannon when I die of embarrassment from an uncontrollable hard-on._ Ianto makes the necessary adjustment. "Turn around."

Jack turns to face Ianto, who slips a tentative hand under a brace and reseats it properly on Jack's shoulder. "You know, it's kind of sad that we didn't get the chance to pretend to be lovers in front of Gwen."

Ianto looks up, and straight into Jack's face. It's lovely being able, physically, to see eye to eye with someone, especially a partner. He had that with Lisa.

And then he's crying, which he didn't expect.

"Hey...." Jack searches Ianto's eyes. "Hey... what's this?"

_I lost her. I haven't cried for her. I'm – you – it's all real now and I can't stand it. Lisa._ "Nothing. I just..."

"Come here." Jack pulls him in. "It's easier when you're not looking."

Ianto's hands clench by his sides and he forces his voice under control. "I miss her."

"I know." Jack rocks Ianto.

Ianto can't speak.

Jack changes his hold, stroking Ianto's back and holding him close, warming him. "It's okay to cry for her, you know."

"No, it's not!"

Jack sighs and pulls back. "She's not coming back."

Ianto looks into Jack's eyes and sees stark, bleak reality. He punches Jack hard in the face, splitting his lip and knocking him three feet back. "I only want her." He stalks out of the room, leaving Jack sitting akimbo on the floor.

*****

"Wow, don't you look dashing!" Gwen accepts Jack's kiss on the cheek and then eyes him. "Rhys told me things got a bit rough with Smith – or Hart, whatever his name was. Said you were mostly unscathed, though."

"Mostly." Jack smiles slightly at Gwen, unsure which ache takes precedence: the one in his soul, or the one in his jaw. "How've you been?"

"Okay."

Jack looks at her, a spark of hope jumping. "Just 'okay'?"

A huge grin spreads over her face, showing her adorable gap. "No, I've been brilliant! Rhys is just ... well, he's perfect, if you want to know the truth. Honest and down to earth and just gorgeous!"

Jack's heart sinks as he nods.

Gwen's smile fades. "Look, I'm sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have left the way I did. It's just that...."

"Go on." It's much harder than it should be.

"I tried to talk to you."

"You did?"

Gwen nods. "Several times. Only I never thought you heard me."

Jack nods, now. "A friend of mine told me that a little while ago."

"Oh?"

Jack shakes his head. "Nobody you know."

Gwen gets that 'I'm about to be clever' smirk that Jack has always loved. "Rhys said something about a Ianto Jones. Said you seemed a bit taken with him."

Jack folds his arms. "It showed?" comes out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Gwen laughs. "Jack! I know you love me, and I know you say you'll shag anything gorgeous enough, but you are so much more attracted to men!"

Jack leans forward, not laughing. "I'd marry you," he says, earnestly. "I don't say that to just anyone."

"I should hope not!"

"I love you. Where do you want to live?"

Gwen snorts. "Did this friend tell you to ask me that?"

Jack nods, sheepishly.

Gwen laughs. "Wales, if you must know. I mean, look at it! Have you seen Snowdonia, yet?"

"We nearly got stranded there last night. Ianto was so tired. I had no idea where we were. It was terrifying."

"But exhilarating, too, right?" Gwen is leaning forward now, looking straight into Jack's eyes.

"Well, it was part of a chase...."

"You were right behind us. Katie knew someone was following us. Thought she recognised the driver. She knew a short cut. It was bloody terrifying!"

Jack looks into her eyes. They are so beautiful, so huge, so ... probative. He wishes they were blue, like a California sky. He laughs with her, ineffably sad because he knows this is an ending. "How is she?" he asks, at last.

"Katie? She's wrecked, poor thing. I'll try to be with her when she's questioned, but Rhys says she's in for it."

"How did you meet her?"

"We bumped into each other in a bar. Literally. We were both trying to escape from horrible men."

"Ouch! Bet Owen Harper won't be happy to hear that...."

"Jack..." Gwen rolls her eyes.

"Okay, okay...." Jack contemplates the wood grain of the table.

"Tell me about him."

Jack looks up. "Ianto?"

"No, the milkman. Of course Ianto, you prat!"

"He called me that, too."

"You might find that the general consensus, if you listened." Gwen smiles, but it doesn't really ease the sting.

"He's ... beautiful. Smart, clever, much kinder than most guys in our field, stronger than he looks—" Jack fingers the bruise blooming over his jaw, "got a great right hook, incredible driver, fantastic shot. He could probably learn a thing or two from you about hand-to-hand, carries a lot of baggage inside, he loves too much, he isn't as straight as he claims to be, and he's not interested in me at all."

"Did he say that?" The gentle concern in Gwen's voice tells Jack that his own wasn't too steady when he finished.

"After he decked me. Said he was just interested in her."

"Her? His fiancée?"

"Lisa, yeah."

"But she's dead, isn't she? Rhys said Hart killed her."

"Yeah."

Gwen gives him another probing look. "How do you know he's not as straight as he claims to be?"

Jack can't stop a half-smile from hijacking the corner of his mouth. "That's, um.... His family's here!"

"Humour me, Jack. Whisper it, if you have to."

"Okay, well, he gets hard almost every time he's close to me, and he tries not to stare at me when I'm naked."

An appreciative, mischievous smile blooms on Gwen's face, and Jack sees a lightness to her that hasn't been there for a while, and that gives him a pang. "And you say he's not interested!"

"Okay, and he's slept on me twice."

"Did he, now?"

"Yeah. On the plane and this morning, in our room."

"Oh, so it's 'our room', is it? How long have you known him, then?"

"We met on the plane three days ago."

"Oh, so love at first sight, then. Like me and Rhys."

"Oh, god...."

"Jack," Gwen growls, shaking his arm affectionately. "It's not a tragedy. Okay, so it may be unexpected, but isn't that the best thing about life?"

"But he's not interested in me!"

"Oh, God, you can be so annoyingly thick! Have you tried bloody _asking_ him?"

"I.... He.... No."

Gwen cups Jack's cheek ever so lightly in her hand. "Jack, love, people don't punch each other for no reason. You understand fighting motivations and techniques. This is one bit of human interaction you can suss out without my help, right?"

_No...._ "Maybe."

Gwen looks at him with a quiet love that Jack knows will last. "You'll figure it out, the pair of you. And then I want to meet him. Rhys and I will be here for awhile – in Llanrwst, I mean – and I want to meet the man who's stolen you from me."

"And speaking of guys stealing you from me, I gotta admit, Rhys isn't all that bad."

Gwen gets up and kisses Jack on the top of his head. "I have to go. And you should, too." She turns serious. "At the very least, Ianto needs a friend, Jack. You should step up for him. You really should."

Jack watches her leave, and then he sits through the incapacitating pang until he can move.

*****

Jack finds Ianto in their room, sitting motionless in one of the little chairs. There is a coldness gathered like a cloud over him, and Ianto seems suddenly small, even with his broad shoulders.

The glimmer of the street lights bounces off the tear tracks still in motion down Ianto's cheeks.

Jack goes quietly to the bathroom and fills two glasses of water from the tap. He notices the whisky as he passes it, and wonders if Ianto's eaten since breakfast. He puts the glasses on the small table and sits in the other chair. "What do you want, Ianto?"

"What I can't have."

Jack nods. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so blunt."

"No. It wasn't your fault. It was exactly what I had to hear. I'm sorry I punched you. You owe me one. I'll give you a freebie when I drive you back to Cardiff tomorrow."

Jack's heart sinks even further than it did when he knew things were over with Gwen. "I was just beginning to like it here."

Ianto looks slowly over at him. "How did things go with Gwen?"

"Well."

"Ah. Well, that's good then. Shouldn't you be with her?" Ianto sounds almost desperate.

"Not unless I want Rhys Williams to kill me, no."

"I can hold him off whilst you make your getaway."

"Gwen and I aren't getting back together."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Jack sighs. "Nothing. Just ... I brought you some water."

"Thanks."

"Tell me about her."

Ianto sits very still as another tear slips down the established path. "Not yet?"

Jack feels the void of loneliness closing around him, and he suddenly becomes very aware that it's January in the most northerly latitude in which he's ever experienced it. He feels the cold as he never has. "Let me help, Ianto."

"What do you want, Jack?" Ianto sounds as timorous as Jack feels.

Jack draws his chair closer and puts his arm around Ianto, handing him the water. "Drink this," he says.

Ianto does, after a long moment.

"I want you. But please tell me if you're going to punch me again, because I don't think I can take any more of that from people I know tonight." Jack hasn't looked at Ianto once, and more than half fears the bone-crunching connection of Ianto's fist with his already tender jaw.

"I won't punch you, so you can stop doing the Vulcan neck pinch on me."

"Oh. Sorry...."

"That's better."

Jack turns towards Ianto just as Ianto is turning towards him.

"I thought you wanted Gwen."

"And I thought you only wanted Lisa."

They gaze at each other for a very long moment.

"Sounds like we both spent the night saying goodbye to loved ones."

Jack runs his hand through Ianto's hair. "Come to bed with me."

"I'm – I'm not sure I'm up for sex."

"I'm not talking about sex, necessarily. But I really liked waking up with you curled around me, and I'm tired and I need a friend. I'm...."

"Lonely."

It hurts. "Yeah." A lot.

Ianto caresses Jack's face with a tenderness that loosens Jack's grief. "Me, too."

And then they are standing, arms wrapped tightly around each other, faces buried against each other.

Jack kisses Ianto's cheek, kisses the tears as Ianto whimpers and kisses him back. And all of a sudden, the intimacy of kissing is no longer a thing for him to fear, but as necessary as air and water and _life_. He finds Ianto's soft, perfect lips and caresses them with his own, relishing the bit of soul that passes into him as he gives his to Ianto.

They strip each other gently, caressing every bit of newly revealed skin, cataloguing scars, bruises, apologizing with lips and tongues and hands for damage they've caused each other.

Jack lays Ianto on the bed. "You are so beautiful!"

"So are you." Ianto touches Jack's face. "I'm sorry I did this."

"I'll heal." Jack strokes Ianto's cheek very tenderly. "Let me take care of you."

Ianto smiles and arches up, nudging Jack's hard-on with his own. "Only if you'll promise to come all over me when you're done."

Jack grins from the depth of his soul and shakes his head. "I think I love you!"

"Love is as love does." Ianto's growl makes Jack so hard it almost hurts. He pulls Jack into the deepest of devouring kisses until Jack has to pull away and kiss his way down Ianto's body.

Jack gets to business quickly. They've been teasing each other for three days and he's almost beyond the capacity for thought. He licks a firm stripe the long length from base to tip of Ianto's cock, pulling back the foreskin and tasting the clear moisture at the slit before taking Ianto into his mouth.

Ianto groans and arches. "MmmJack! Won't last...."

"Mmm.... Me neither...." Jack slips his hands under Ianto's back and pulls them down until he's lifting Ianto's buttocks from the mattress, slipping his fingers into the crevice of Ianto's arse, brushing a forefinger over Ianto's opening just enough to feel it contract as he takes Ianto as deep as he can.

Ianto shouts and comes hard into Jack's mouth, thrusting and spurting as Jack swallows with relish. "God, Jack! Ah! Oh! Mmm! Come here! Kiss me! Want to see you, feel you come on me. Rub yourself on me...." Ianto holds him close, kissing, caressing, encouraging.

Jack loses all vestige of control and frots against Ianto's belly, shouting as Ianto pulls him closer and writhes under him as he comes.

It is a long time before either of them can move, but when Jack looks up, Ianto is smiling, and it is so relaxed that Jack feels the warmth of a fire that's just been lit. He kisses Ianto again, thinking that he could get used to this. And maybe, he thinks, as he falls asleep entwined with the man who got him over his fear of flying, just maybe, Ianto could get him over his seasickness. Hell, it's worth a shot....

 

 


End file.
